Yea, Though I Walk
by PlaidButterfly
Summary: ME2/SW Crossover. Shepard finds herself working against the Collectors with a foreign - and unwilling - ally.
1. Chapter 1

"All right, EDI. Tell me what we've got."

Shepard had definitely learned her lesson with Grunt. This new visitor was getting the full nine yards, and that meant no civvies, even if she was aboard her own ship. Instead the golden glow of her omni-tool made her well-polished armor gleam, and the AI's calm voice radiated from the small speakers inside it.

"Human male, approximately 2 meters tall, age estimated at 45. Significant scarring indicative of extensive burns as well as cybernetic replacements. Cerberus has reverse-engineered and corrected the most egregious oversights in this system."

"Hold on. Reverse-engineered?" She ran a hand through her short hair as the elevator doors closed.

"Correct, Shepard. The technology was deemed to be of unique origin and was salvaged, then later largely deemed as inefficient and relatively crude. Many systems including breathing support have been replaced with technology originating from the Lazarus Project as part of an ongoing Cerberus initiative to expand the use of new developments, possibly for commercial use."

The light flickered a moment as the elevator came to a stop. Instead of moving on immediately to the starboard cargo bay, Shepard walked only to lean on the railing of the deck, looking out the wide window at the hangar below. "Sounds like he's about as hard to keep down as I am." She had to respect that, at least. "So where's he from?"

"Unknown."

She blinked before looking sideways to the small Engineering console where EDI's representation flickered on. "You just said he was human, EDI."

"That is correct. Genetic analysis shows that the subject is entirely _homo sapiens sapiens_. Further microarray analysis shows many known genotypes, such as heterozygote advantage for the CFTR and triosephosphate isomerase proteins." Shepard blinked rapidly at this, enough for even the AI to deduce that she was losing interest. "Several new mutations were recorded. The most notable difference appears to be large amounts of an unknown organelle within the subject's cells."

"So he's human, but he's infected with something. Great."

"Although large quantities are present, at this time there appears to be no known vector for infection."

"Good, I don't need the new kid sneezing on Tali and making her keel over."

"In that event, the envirosuit would prevent -" Shepard gave another sideways glare at the AI's display, and EDI seemed to get the message. "Mordin requests blood and tissue samples for further analysis, with your permission."

"Sounds fine to me. You still haven't gotten to the part where Cerberus got their paws on him, EDI."

"The subject was acquired from a small fighter discovered adrift near Horizon. The ship is not equipped with a Mass Effect drive -"

"Wait, _wait_ -"

"Instead there appears to be technology of an alternative means of intergalactic transport. Cerberus scientists are currently investigating, although it appears to be substantially slower than the Mass Effect relay. Current hypothesis is that the small fighter was caught in the Collector ship's Mass Effect field."

"So, he got stuck in the wake and was brought along for the ride?" She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the railing.

"Essentially correct, Shepard. However, evidence suggests that at that range, he intended to pursue the Collector craft instead of being accidentally swept up along with it."

Shepard stood up, giving a low whistle of appreciation. "Man's got cojones, I'll give him that."

"Primary reports on scarring indicate that approximately twenty-five years ago, coinciding with considerable burns, the subject was in fact effectively castrated -"

"Don't! Just don't - don't finish that, EDI. I don't even _have_ them, but you're still making them hurt," Shepard groaned.

To its credit, although the AI looked desperately confused (as much as it could, anyway), EDI only responded with a polite "Yes, Commander Shepard."

She took a few more minutes to try and get her hair into some sort of order - paradoxically, the shorter she cut it, the more messy it seemed to become - before nodding at the starboard cargo bay door. "All right, EDI, open it up. Let's see what we've got."

The door slid open, and Shepard frowned. Lights were flickering, and that made her nervous. If the Normandy was going to go into this mission, everything had to be working, down to the last lightbulb relay. Instead the back half of the cargo bay was bathed in darkness, centering around a boxy stasis pod that made Grunt's tank look downright friendly in comparison. Of course the angular Cerberus logo was stamped on its surface, on top of the tinted window that made it impossible for her to see what exactly was inside.

"I apologize for the atmosphere, Commander Shepard. It appears the symbiotic organelles serve some purpose to enhance biotic capabilities. Conservative estimates place the subject's biotic power at approximately equal or greater to those of Subject Zero."

Shepard paused a moment, reflexively scouting the room for any boxes she could dive behind to use as cover. But her assault rifle was with her. She at least had that advantage. ...however slim it might be.

A small array of objects were laid out on a nearby table. As if to stall actually confronting the problem, she walked over to glance over them, finally picking up a small metal cylinder with an air of amusement. "Those are the personal effects recovered from the subject that Cerberus has forwarded to you. It appears his main weapon was in effect a plasma sword. The switch is the red button by your thumb."

Curiously, she held it out and gingerly thumbed the switch. A vibrant red blade extended outwards, thrumming in the air - and almost immediately, Shepard gave a laugh that was half of a snort. "Goddamn, this looks like something that somebody would come up with in the society of creative anachronism or something." She paused. "Not - not that I ever did that in college. It's totally undignified for a Spectre, and, uh - no time to do stuff like that in a good military career."

"I'm sure, Shepard."

Very gingerly, she deactivated the sword and set it back down before looking over to the stasis pod once again. "Anything else I should know, EDI?"

"There is significant neural activity in the limbic system, especially in the amygdala, as well as in the auditory processing centers, despite the measures of the stasis pod."

"So..." She slowly thought over the last few words. "What you're telling me is that he's mad as hell, he can probably hear us, and that he's one tough bastard?"

"That would be a correct colloquial summary."

She sighed, pausing to look the stasis pod over again. Then she checked her assault rifle. Fully loaded, set to incendiary rounds. Not that she hoped to use them, but it was always better to be prepared. "You know, EDI, if the Illusive Man really wants to send me presents, I'd appreciate a box of chocolates or some flowers or something," she said wryly, checking her gun over. "Not some mystery man who's likely to tear my face off. Even if flowers are a little ineffective against Collectors."

The lights flickered again.

Shepard drew in a deep breath, standing up straighter, before letting it roll out of her in a long sigh. With easy, quiet confidence - the type that had served her well so far - she stared the stasis pod down. Although she could see nothing but shadow, she knew there must be a pair of eyes in there, somewhere, and she hoped she was meeting them.

"All right, EDI. Let him out of there."


	2. Chapter 2

To her great relief, the first thing she heard after a gasp for breath wasn't a Jack-like torrent of invective. Neither was it a scream, either of rage or pain. It was coughing, which meant she got the first word in. Keeping a crew in line was similar to training dogs, though she knew many of her crew would resent that analogy. If you were calm, they would be calm. If you panic, they would panic. So, she was calm. But she also wasn't stupid - her rifle was already aimed towards the movement in the shadows.

"I'm Commander Shepard. You're aboard the Normandy SR-2. I've been informed that Cerberus has made some changes to your cybernetics - if you need some medical assistance adjusting, we have a well-stocked medbay. And if it's a technical problem, I'm sure Tali can figure it out. I'm not with Cerberus. Not really. Believe me, I'm just as annoyed with their tendency to go in and make little adjustments. I used to be a B-cup, you know? Damned inconvenient," she said wryly, gesturing at her chest.

The coughing finally became gasping silence, and from the darkness, she could feel the heat of a frustrated glare.

"Okay, not the funny type. I get it." She took a breath in, about to say something, though it ended in a gag. Although it seemed as if she was being lifted up, a hand crushing her throat. To her credit, she didn't shoot. Instead she just gripped the rifle more tightly.

"Engaging biotic countermeasures -"

A voice finally came from the darkness, barely above a rasp, interrupting the AI's worried chatter. "My helm. Where is it?"

"Can't - when - goddamn _choking_ -" Her nostrils flared. Finally, her rifle spat out a burst of gunfire - too wide a shot, merely a warning instead of a threat. The message was apparently clear, and she gasped as her feet finally hit the ground. "It's over here with the rest of your belongings. If you need it, I'll toss it over." Although her rifle was leveled, she paused to glance at the helm. It was an impressive piece of work - black, menacing, skull-like. "Crap visibility, though. If you need one, we can outfit you from the Normandy's stock."

Another rasp that turned into a fit of coughing. There was an odd cadence to the breaths coming from the darkness, as if the man was trying to remember even how to breathe. That had to be just her imagination, though - surely nobody forgot to _breathe_. It was natural instinct...

"Listen. Whoever you are. I know you were after that same Collector ship. Right now the Normandy's the only ship that's going to be able to go chase them down. We've got our one-way ticket, and we're the only ones that do."

More fumbling. The sound of cloth ripping. He was doing something in the shadows, she just couldn't tell what. It was likely better that Shepard not see his blind panic at suddenly being without a mask, after he had lived underneath one for so long. It was also better that she not see how he fumbled to touch his own face in amazement, or how he pursed his lips to enjoy the simple act of being able to control how air flowed between them.

"I'll be straight with you. We probably won't be coming back. But if you're with us, we could use all the help we can get." She shrugged, her armor making small noises as it rubbed against itself like the carapace of a beetle. "I don't care where you've come from or your reasons for being here, just as long as you can follow orders and help fight."

The figure in the shadows slowly stood, and she tensed. 'Approximately two meters' did not prepare her how the older man was built - broad-shouldered and imposing. What had once been a cape had now become a makeshift mask and hood, the torn edge wrapped around his shoulders. It blurred into the shadows too easily - except for a strip of white. He only let his eyes show, and they were as eerily pale as his skin.

"I _give_ orders," he said bluntly. "I don't _follow_ them."

"Then we might have a problem, since this is my ship."

They locked eyes for a long moment. He was the first one to blink. Shepard flattered herself by thinking that meant she, in some sense, had won. It probably just meant he was distracted looking at her gun.

"Listen. It wouldn't surprise me to hear that Cerberus has cut you some raw deal, and you've got a right to be angry with them. But we both know you're interested in going after the Collectors. I'll settle for not-about-to-shoot-me-in-the-back if you can't do outright loyal - on a few conditions. You give me some information about yourself. You don't go after my crew. You let Yeoman Chambers talk to you every once and awhile." She watched his eyes narrow. "In return, you'll get access to the dossiers of my crew and other information you need." Gingerly, she shifted the rifle in her hands, adjusting her aim. "If you say no, you get dumped at the nearest space-station. I'm not saying I'll hand you back over to Cerberus, but once you're off my ship, you're not my problem anymore. Understood?"

A long moment as he paused to consider. "Understood. Those terms are... acceptable." There was a slight snarl to the last word, letting her know that he fully recognized the friendly threat she had used, and that he deeply resented it. As he stepped forward out of the shadows, she slowly let her gun drop until it hung limp by her thigh, her free hand extending outwards for a handshake.

"Commander Delia Shepard." After another pause, he seemed to recognize the gesture, meeting her in the handshake. His grip was near-crushing, and she had to supply all the movement for the handshake. Up close, she finally appreciated how unnervingly large he was. "And you?"

Shepard wasn't used to waiting for a response to that question. Usually even an incompetent spy gave a stutter. But he was well-composed, his deep voice echoing somewhat in the small cargo hold.

"Vader."


	3. Chapter 3

"Stop worrying, Miranda. You're still the prettiest," Shepard said, trying and failing to hide how she rolled her eyes. "I _promise_."

"Shepard, that is _not_ the issue," Miranda huffed. Officially, the two had not been on good terms since Pragia, but apparently they were both looking to make things a little worse - though it was unclear just who had a valid point and who was spoiling for a fight. Jacob wisely stood back as the two women circled each other around the communications room table.

"Well then, what _is_ the issue?"

"You just released a - a powerful biotic who we know _nothing_ about onto the ship! And granted him full access to our records on the crew! He's not even from any known human colony - there are hundreds of reasons to have kept him in stasis - hundreds looking at cross-contamination _alone_ -"

Shepard shrugged. "EDI says he's only a little fleabitten."

Miranda spluttered at this as the AI helpfully spoke up. "It appears what was mis-identified as infection is actually a symbiotic relationship. The organelles appear to enhance biotic power. Mordin will have further analysis soon."

"Besides," Shepard said quickly, cutting Miranda off, "I figured if I gave Jack and Grunt a chance, it's only fair that I do the same for him." She paused a moment as if realizing that this was perhaps not the wisest life strategy. "And anyway, it's like Grunt said, reach out with one hand, hold a gun in the other. He only uses some sort of laser-sword. There's no way that he could land a scratch on any of us without being gunned down first. So what's he going to do?" She laughed, gesturing as she mockingly changed the tone of her voice. "Oooh, better be careful, he might run with that thing and put someone's eye out. ...As long as we keep him away from the weapons locker, it'll be fine, I'm sure."

"A person of skill will always find a way," Miranda said with a small sniff. "Just because he doesn't have a conventional weapon doesn't mean he's not dangerous. I once killed a man with a pair of chopsticks when I was undercover on a Cerberus operation."

Shepard blinked slowly. "You what?"

"A pair of chopsticks. Separate, then through the eyes. It's very easy, really."

Jacob finally spoke up. "It's true, I was there."

Shepard paused to run a hand through her short hair, blinking rapidly. "Well. Huh. Um. Keep him away from the weapons locker _and_ kitchen implements, then. Otherwise, leave him alone. Kelly's going to talk to him a little, but he probably needs some time to adjust and figure out where the hell he is. His access to our records stays. You're to treat him with respect - but keep your distance, for now. _Dismissed._"

* * *

"...So it's really true?"

"Hm?"

Joker looked over his shoulder at Shepard half a second before going back to looking at the screen. "That new memo that was just sent out, about the new kid. It's full emergency lockdown if he goes for the weapons locker _or_ if we see him with a spatula?"

"Well, of course," Shepard said nonchalantly, leaning an elbow on Joker's chair while enjoying the view of space out before them. "It'd be a shame to be remembered as 'that woman Cerberus spent fifteen gazillion credits putting back together who died of a spork to the face'."

They exchanged a quick glance - just enough for Joker to see how she was smiling - before they both lapsed into quiet laughter. She patted at the back of his chair as she looked up to see Kelly Chambers' dim reflection in the window. "I'll be back later, Joker."

"Seeya, Commander."

She turned to greet Kelly with a smile. "Walk with me a little," Shepard said, gesturing. "I'm going to guess from that look on your face things didn't go so great."

"Not exactly," Kelly admitted nervously. "I don't want to make a judgment that's too hasty, Commander. I don't think I'm really fully qualified to deal with the, uh, entire situation. But..." As they walked across the bridge to the privacy of the communications room, Kelly relaxed slightly. "Do you know the old joke about heaven and hell, Shepard? About how in heaven, all the lovers are Asari, all the government is Turian..."

"But in hell all the lovers are Volus and all the cooks are Vorcha and so on, yeah, I know that one."

"Well." Kelly drew in a sharp breath through her teeth, clasping her hands in front of her. "Vader is... like hell in that joke. All the worst qualities of the crew that I've seen so far. As angry as Jack, as violent as Grunt... Though he is slightly easier to talk to than Grunt."

"Slightly easier to talk to than a krogan."

"Yes."

"That's the best thing you can say about him."

There was a long pause as Kelly looked up as if trying to see a better quality that she could pull out of the air. "...Yes," she finally answered.

Shepard paused to pinch at the bridge of her nose, covering her face with her hands momentarily to quietly mouth several choice curses. Sighing, she brought her hands down to lean against the table. "Right. Okay. That's good to know. What else did you find out?"

"Not much," Kelly admitted. "I don't think he's quite used to talking. I think it's a good sign that he was willing to talk with me, though, I got the impression that was somewhat novel for him, even if he was more interested in learning about my perspective on the crew and our mission. He seems very attached to the pieces of old armor that came with him, especially the mask. It's very Jungian, in a way..."

"Jungian?" Shepard gave a half-wince. "I remember that name from some history course - maybe. You aren't going to start telling me all about how he wants to bang his mom and kill his dad, right?"

"No, no, that's Freud. But now that you mention it..."

"Nevermind," Shepard said quickly, waving a hand. "So, do you think he's going to be a problem?"

Kelly's mouth barely opened, lips parted and tongue resting pressed against the back of her teeth, as she paused on the very cusp of saying something to think. "I... I'm not sure." She gave a small, flustered sigh. "I think he's following an internal code, and following it strictly - he reminds me of Samara, sometimes, in that way. But I have no idea what that code is. I don't think _he_ even really knows what it is, most of the time - or at the very least, he's had some base assumptions recently shaken. And it's not just changing his world-view because of the change in setting, being here on the Normandy, either."

Shepard's fingernails tapped gently against the table's flat top as she thought this over. "So what you're saying is that he can really go either way, and you just don't know yet?"

"More or less, yes."

Shepard let her head drop before she mumbled another curse underneath her breath.


	4. Chapter 4

Shepard loved the smell of new boots. To be more precise, she loved the smell of sealant over the fresh paint that had just been put on to make the new boots match the rest of her armor. She was fairly certain that the sealant fell into the category of 'things in aerosol cans that should only be used in well-ventilated areas', but that was all part of the charm.

"Shepard," EDI chimed in politely, "New data has been received from Cerberus that may be of interest."

"Important enough that it's not stuck in a message?" She tilted her head, admiring the new boot on her foot even as she talked to the AI. "Sure, EDI, shoot."

"Data has been recovered from the small fighter Vader was recovered from. A small on-board navicomputer was programmed with a continuous map of the battlefield to ease in targeting management; the scenario of the Collector attack has been reconstructed from this data."

"Great," she said, dusting off her hands and bouncing up and down a few times. Ah, the glorious springiness of new boots. "Go ahead and display what they've got." The holographic representation of the AI itself winked out, and was replaced by a wide spread of a battlefield. "Wait - the hell? Is that some sort of space station? EDI, put the Normandy on there for scale, all right?" The pleasant green of the battlefield was joined by a small blue speck. "Goddamn. That thing's huge."

"Recovered data says the battle station, though under construction, is approximately the size of a small moon. It was joined by a force of dreadnaughts and small fighters, against opposing forces of much weaker strength."

Eyes narrowing, she reached out to paw at the small holographic, manipulating it to zoom in. "They look more varied than the Migrant Fleet. I'm guessing given the color that they were the people Vader were fighting against. Not much data on them, then."

"No, Shepard. However, there is summarized data on the other fleet, apparently lead by the _Executor_ -" A large triangle of a ship lit up in yellow for emphasis - "and the battlestation, apparently named the _Death Star_."

"Wow," she snorted. "_Some_body's got a flare for melodrama." Laughing quietly to herself, Shepard shook her head. "EDI, if I ever get started naming ships like that, stop me, okay? I'd end up calling the Normandy the, I don't know, Deathy McDeatherson Doom-machine or something." The AI was politely silent as she enjoyed her joke before going back to scrolling through the map. "I don't see the Collector ship in all this mess, EDI."

"This data is approximately five minutes before the arrival of the Collector ship." The map sprung into action, ships zipping back and forth, the small darts of fighters swarming like gnats around the lumbering larger ships. The massive Collector ship appeared with all the subtlety of a slap in the face, sauntering into the battle. With only a moment's hesitation, it pounced on the moonlike battlestation like a predator on wounded prey. The rest of the battle seemed to be thrown into a panic. But the frantic activity didn't interest her - not as much as the Collector ship.

"So they go in, scoop up humans from this battlestation, and zip out to Horizon. And Vader goes into this little fighter to give chase?"

"That is essentially correct, Commander Shepard."

"Makes sense," she mumbled to herself. "All right. Tell Legion and Garrus to get ready - we're heading out."

* * *

All three of them looked rather surprised when Vader stepped into the elevator, heading down to Engineering from the floor above while they were going from the CIC to board the Hammerhead. At least, Shepard assumed that the fluttering of headflaps meant that Legion was surprised. It was hard to tell.

"Afternoon, Vader," she said as cheerfully as possible, nodding politely.

He said nothing, instead crossing his arms over his chest and staring him down coolly.

She gave a small cough before trying to ease into conversation. "Getting to know everyone aboard the Normandy well?"

"In a sense," he said icily. "Enough to question your judgment, Commander."

The polite smile froze on her face. "Oh?" She said cheerfully, though her jaw was locked in place.

"Your current team, for example." He pulled one black-gloved hand away to gesture at the others in the elevator. "Someone naiive enough to lose the lives of his entire squad while indulging a childish hero fantasy -"

Garrus visibly bristled. Immediately, Shepard's hand snapped out to Garrus' wrist. "Don't do it," she hissed. "Don't do it, he's not worth it -"

"...and a delusional 'droid." He gestured at Legion as if the geth was barely worth the effort of a flick of the wrist.

Legion's head-flaps fluttered again. "We are inhabiting a mobile platform, not -"

Vader pointedly talked over the geth, not addressing it, even as he stared it down. "I can take it apart and put it back together again with a restraining bolt. It is a pile of bolts and scrap. Take my advice, Commander: clankers are not allies. They are tools. Stop indulging its idiotic fantasies and give it a memory wipe."

By now, Garrus was shaking with barely restrained rage, and Shepard's knuckles had gone white as she gripped at his wrist to hold him back. Legion merely looked vaguely distressed. The elevator doors opened, and before she could think of anything to say, Vader gave the group a small nod - again, as if they were barely worth the effort - before sweeping off to his makeshift room in the cargo bay.

For a long moment, the three of them stood in silence. Before Garrus could, there was a small explosion of anger from Shepard herself. "God_dammit!_ He did that_just_ to mess with me! I know he did!" Such explosions were far more rare than Shepard's red hair would lead one to expect, and the heat of her voice actually distracted Garrus from his own fury.

"Shepard-Commander," Legion said somewhat nervously, "we would request to not be left alone with Vader, in case he decides to make proposed modifications."

"Right. Yes. Fine." She took in a deep breath. "Garrus, let's go shoot things. To small itty-bitty pieces."

"Can I get the missile launcher this time?"

"As long as you promise to shoot things with it."

"I don't think that'll be a problem at all, Shepard."


	5. Chapter 5

"A tour, Commander?" Joker didn't bother to turn around, but instead looked over his shoulder to throw Shepard a worried look.

She sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Chambers just sent word up. Apparently it was the best way she had to cool off the situation when Tali found him poking around in Engineering." They grimaced simultaneously in understanding. "So just smile and nod and try not to act like too much of an ass."

"That's..."

"It's a tough order, I know. But I'm trying to give this guy a fair shake."

"You've gotta get a better hobby, Commander. Have you considered, I dunno, commemorative plates or something instead of _crazy people_?"

"Fancy tea sets just don't have the thrill of wondering when they're going to kill you in the middle of the night," Shepard sighed wistfully before tossing Joker a grin. He did not seem as amused as she did. She settled for patting the back of his chair and turning back towards the larger expanse of the CIC.

Kelly Chambers was already at her usual place, though she was standing too rigidly, failing at hiding how scared she was. "...And the Normandy is able to dispel heat into its core for several days at a time, so, ah -" She paused to gulp as Vader turned away from her, slowly walking down the CIC towards the cockpit. He certainly was an impressive-looking man, Shepard had to admit. Even though it seemed as if he had polished bits of his black armor, the pauldrons casting amber echoes of the displays around him, he still wore the ragged remains of his black cloak pulled up and around to cover his face and head.

He walked ahead as if he owned the place - as if the Normandy was _his_ship - and Shepard quietly seethed, but kept a friendly smile plastered on her face.

Like a toy poodle trying to catch up with its jogging owner, Kelly rushed to catch up with him. "So, essentially, sir, the Normandy is able to stealth, undetectable to most ships."

"But no visual cloaking device?" He watched one of the crew paw at the haptic display, though with an air of disinterest.

"Well, no, not exactly. But to long-range sensors -"

He interrupted her with a quiet, derisive snort. Smile firmly fixed on her face, Shepard decided it was a good time to interrupt, and stepped forward. She was remarkably good at putting on an air of politeness. Not quite as good as some, but that mostly had to do with her aversion to wearing fancy dresses and high heels. In any case, she hoped that she could be pleasant enough to deal with Vader.

"The Normandy's a fine ship, isn't she?" Shepard beamed like a proud parent. "So, Vader. What do you think?"

He fixed her with a cold stare. Shepard hadn't quite realized how unnervingly pale his eyes were, but now it was quite clear as he stared her down.

"It appears your stealth ship can be thwarted by any civilization who has discovered the advanced technology of _windows_. Piloted by a cripple -" he gestured at Joker - "and led by a captain so incompetent she has already died once..." It was a lazy flick of the wrist. Even the Commander of the ship was barely worth the effort. "Yes, I'm sure this mission will go splendidly."

There was perfect silence, only interrupted by the clack of his boots on the deck as he turned to walk away, wanting to end the conversation when it was clear he was the victor. Shepard herself gaped slightly. Of course she had been insulted before. Of course she could deal with it. But to have her good intentions so violently thrown back into her face - well, that was one thing. But he hadn't mocked her, he had mocked the Normandy, and that was as good as pulling a baby carriage from a new mother and spitting in the infant's face.

So when she spoke, her voice was rough with anger. "Yeah, and I'm sure you took a swim in lava just for laughs, right, Vader?"

He had been expecting a comeback of some type, some sort of weak insult that would give him an excuse to retaliate as he wished. He hadn't been expecting_that_, and she knew it from how his back suddenly stiffened. As his fists clenched, the lights above him flickered.

"How dare -"

Shepard's voice raised to a dull roar, and she stepped forward. "Do you want to start this, Vader? _Do you?_Shut the hell up and listen to me!"

The lights flickered again - a few screens shut down. EDI piped up, sounding as worried as she could - "Shepard, significant biotic fields are interfering -"

Joker flailed at the AI. "Sshh, shh!" Fortunately, EDI seemed to get the idea. The entirety of the crew held their breaths, turning in their chairs to stare.

As Shepard continued, her voice continued to raise. It was a rare and terrifying thing to see her so angry. "I don't care if you think I'm as dumb as a box of hair. I don't care what you think of the Normandy. But there's one reason I haven't made you take a long walk out a short airlock, and that's because I know _every single person_ will help killing the goddamn Collectors. This is a one-way ticket, Vader. This is the _only_ one-way ticket. You go on my ship, or you don't go. And I don't know who you're chasing. Your crew, your girlfriend, your _favourite pet goldfish_, I don't care! And I don't care even though I know that they're likely turned into by now. Have you ever seen a dragon's tooth, Vader? Of course you _goddamn haven't_, but I have, which is why _I am Commander here_, because I saw them with the Geth, turning humans into _husks_. So the more time - the more of _my_ time, the more of _this ship's time_ - you waste, the more likely it is whoever you're searching for is going to be on a pole becoming a zombie. And if you want to be that way, I'll just drop your ass off at the latest space station and send you back a postcard with a pile of dead husks I've shot so that maybe you can pick out a familiar face. You are either with me, with this ship, or you are _off_this ship."

"Now," she yelled, voice sounding strained, "_do you want to start this, Vader?_"

The silence was perfect. Nobody dared breathe as they stared, though Joker started a silent chant of profanities as he fully expected his beloved Normandy to be torn apart at any moment in fury. The lights flickered again. In a bold move, a crewmember reached out to tap at his haptic screen. The map of the galaxy disappeared, replaced with a vid from Eden Prime, showing husks strung up on Dragon's Teeth.

Shepard's question hung in the air, and the silence seemed smothering.

"No," he finally answered in a snarl. "_Not yet._"

Shepard coughed, reaching up to pull at her collar as if there was something at her neck that had just been released. "Good. _Dismissed,_Vader."

They stared each other down for a few more moments, but Shepard was the first to turn away. He quickly did the same, but it was only a few steps before he paused. "Shepard." There was a distinct snap to his voice, and he waited for her to turn back to face him before glaring over his shoulder. "I am only here for my.. my son." There was an odd huskiness in his voice, as if he was not used to admitting this fact, but it disappeared as he continued. "And if you mock him again, in any way, I will personally remove your head from your shoulders."

"I said you're _dismissed_."

When the elevator doors finally closed, everyone seemed to give a simultaneous sigh of relief as if they had been given permission to breathe again. Shepard lapsed into deep coughing, reaching up to put a hand to her throat as if checking that it hadn't actually been crushed. "Commander, are you okay?"

Once she finished taking a few deep breaths, she leaned against the wall of the ship, nuzzling it as if the cold steel was a lover's chest. "Yeah. Yeah, Joker, I'm fine."


	6. Chapter 6

"Wake up, Shepard." A nudge to her shoulder, probably from a boot. "You're dreaming."

"Those things don't go together," she whined in a mumble, trying to close her eyes harder and block out the strange voice.

"I said _wake up_."

This time the command was accompanied by a much stronger kick that was definitely from a boot. With a grunt, she scrambled to get up, eyes open - though all she saw was black. There was a floor, and so she stood, dusting herself off. At least in this dream she still had clothing, even if it was just a sleep shirt, and even if she would have preferred her armor...

"Who the hell..."

The young man across from her gave a knowing smirk. He was tall, dressed elegantly, black robes over a leather tunic that matched his gloves and boots. His messy hair was in a leonine mane - and Shepard had to admit that his face wasn't unattractive, even with the heavy scar by one of his eyes. No, he was quite handsome, really, even with his eyes - it wasn't that they weren't there, but the information seemed to be missing - white, a flat glow completely obscuring their color as if the man himself didn't want to reveal it...

But it suddenly clicked who he was, as unfamiliar as he seemed, as if the information had been pressed upon her instead of naturally growing out of her own thoughts.

"_Goddammit, Vader!_" She jumped back, flailing a bit, before peering at him again. "That's really what you look like under there? Da_yum_, that's not bad at all." His eyebrows knit in frustration, but she continued talking: "Some women really like scars, and hell, I'm pretty sure that we could go to Omega and you'd come out with at an asari for the night, if not three. Might make you more tolerable if you finally got - _hhrk!_"

Abruptly, his hand was at her throat. In dream-logic, her body went limp, limbs moving slowly as if she were swimming through molasses. She suddenly appreciated how very large he was, and how very small she was in comparison.

"Don't finish that sentence," he said flatly, looking disgusted with her.

"Hhgnk."

It was a relief to feel the floor underneath her bare feet, even if she couldn't see anything beyond black, dreamy void. Sullenly, she glared at him a moment, coughing. "If you were lonely, you could have just called me on the comm or something, _damn_. Unless I'm just... dreaming about you. In which case, don't get the wrong idea or anything."

"I'm here because I intended to be here, Shepard." He said icily.

"Then what the _hell_, Vader? You can't just waltz into somebody's head like you own the goddamn place, it's - it's as personal as a person ever gets -"

"I am merely returning the favor," he said lazily. "It's just that your attempt to get into my head was a bit more polite, and named Kelly Chambers."

Shepard grimaced. "All right, you've got me there. It still doesn't mean that I'm happy about it."

"I'm looking forward to hearing exactly how insane she thinks I am," the young man said with an air of amusement. He had turned away from her, but now looked back over his shoulder - and now appeared to be all silhouette and fanged, predatory smile. "But if anyone approaches me with what may be a tranquilizer, I will not hesitate to dismember them."

"Good to know. ...And I don't blame you much. I have the same thing with needles." She paused a moment before sighing, reaching up to run a hand through her red hair. "Okay. I know you're not here for a goddamn heart-to-heart. If we're going to play twenty questions, can we at least... be somewhere?"

"Fine." The blank void was replaced in broad strokes - large, open windows surrounding a circular room, an intricate yellow-and-sepia pattern on the floor. Twelve chairs sat in a ring around the design. The sunset through the windows made a pattern like black lace out of the city, and long shadows lapped at her ankles. It was a pleasant enough place, and quite frankly, she was surprised by it - until Vader went to sit in one of the chairs with a smug expression on his face, leaning back as if gloating about being there. Shepard didn't recognize the place, but it was obviously important to him. She couldn't have known that the cityscape through the windows was Coruscant, and that the room was the chamber of the Jedi High Council. But she did see how he took his seat with a certain satisfaction, as if it had been denied to him and then reclaimed by blood.

It was not a very comfortable room to be in the middle of.

"So, Shepard," he said, grinning, tone mocking: "Tell me how you're feeling."

"You know, you don't really have to mock Kelly. Or if you are, at least go for something funnier." She sighed, pulling down her nightshirt. The marble floor was awfully cold for bare feet. "What do you want me to say? That I'm scared, so you can feel like a bigger man?" He simply continued giving her a maddening smirk. "Fine, you bastard. I'm afraid of you. There, I said it. Now get to the part where you mock me and then I get to go back to sleep."

"I'm not concerned about your fear, Shepard. I'm waiting to see what you do with it."

"So is speaking like a goddamn fortune cookie your second hobby, after being a complete bastard?" She huffed. "Fine. Tell me what I _should_ feel, then."

"Privileged," Vader said, almost lazily. "I've had more extended conversations with you than I have had with my own son."

"You're telling me that just to get a rise out of me," she spluttered.

His smile became broader. "You're smarter than you look, Shepard."

"Thanks," she grumbled, making sure her tone was properly sarcastic. She turned, starting to pace in back and forth while keeping an eye on him. "You still haven't gotten to the point of all this. Besides you wandering around my head for some giggles. And if that's really all this is, you need to, I don't know, take up knitting."

"I'm here to see if you realize how similar we are," he said, grinning. "Nearly identical, even."

"Identical? _Go to hell_, Vader," she snapped. "I do this because I care about people. I'm doing this for the entire goddamn Citadel, _and_ for my crew." Her nostrils flared as she gave a snort. "I remember the size of those ships. I bet you don't even know the names of all your crew, much less a damn thing about them."

That maddening smile was still on his face. "Third chair communications station, six to twelve shift. Megara Dalton. Born on Jutrand, accepted into the Imperial Academy after scoring third highest in her sector group. Raised by her aunt and uncle, and very close to her cousin, Bisson. If you'd like, I can continue..."

"You're just making that up."

He leaned forward, smiling. "But you can't be sure, can you, Shepard?"

She turned to stare him down. His eyes were still flat white, softly glowing, perhaps. "No," she finally admitted. "I can't."

And he gave a very soft laugh at this, standing. "We're far more similar than you know. We've both learned that sometimes being the hero isn't all it's promised to be."

"That's not the point of being a hero," she hissed, trembling.

"We've both been rebuilt..." The light faded behind him - shadows slipping up to envelop him. "And we both serve new masters out of debt, not out of gratitude."

"I don't serve anyone but - but the council," she said quickly, though her voice was starting to shake.

The sunset was fading. And so was the floor, and the city outside the broad windows as well. The black shadow was creeping up his handsome face at the same time the blood seemed to be leaving his cheeks. As if he was drowning in tar, the black moved closer and closer - his chin, up to his mouth - suddenly sprouting machinery. And an ungodly echo - breathing, labored, ringing through the room - was it coming from him? She couldn't quite tell...

"I want to know," he murmured as the blackness slipped inside his lips before flaring out to form the skull-shaped helm Shepard remembered from his personal effects. "Why you cling to all of these weaknesses. To this delusion of mercy. Of justice. Why, when it will only handicap you, and you know it?"

Her hands remained limp by her side. In dreamy logic, she couldn't move, even when he reached out a black-gloved hand to firmly grab her chin and tilt it up. And she couldn't see his eyes - only the mask, the black skull-like mask...

"I do it because it keeps me from becoming like you."

His fingers continued to dig into her face as he lifted her chin up a little more, inspecting her - not just superficially. Something deeper she couldn't understand, even if she felt like she was being examined like cattle at market.

"Good answer," he murmured.

And her eyes opened to stare at her own room again. With a loud string of curses, she sat up, punching at her pillow. Shepard knew that there was no way she could get back to sleep, not now. Even though it was five in the morning. Even though this was supposed to be her day to sleep in until eight.

There was nothing for it but to get a cup of coffee and hope Garrus had started calibrations early so she would have someone to talk to.


	7. Chapter 7

It took Miranda a few moments to be aware of the shadow that came over her haptic screen, and admittedly, she did jump a little in her seat. Everyone else on the Normandy knew to knock, but she had written off the possibility of him walking freely about the ship again. After all, he did seem to have wanted to go and sulk after the confrontation with Shepard in the CIC. But here he was.

"Vader? ...Can I help you?" Miranda said with polite suspiciousness.

There was the undeniable sensation of being judged as he looked her over, his eyes only visible underneath the hood. "Merely observing that for all the supposed genetic perfection this universe has to offer, the pride of Cerberus still doesn't know how to dress herself."

Immediately she clenched her teeth, tensing in her seat. Oh, he knew what he was doing, and he was damn good at it, too. That knowledge didn't make the comment sting any less.

"I took the liberty of correcting errors in my dossier." He tossed a datapad at her, and it landed on the desk in the middle of her haptic keyboard, adding a line of gibberish to her report. "Though unfortunately, Operative Lawson, I didn't include a treatise on why going into battle with your chest exposed may, in fact, be a bad idea. But I'm sure even a dimwitted Cerberus whore such as yourself can figure that out eventually."

A hot blush flooded her cheeks. He knew _exactly_what he was doing, and she wouldn't give him a reason, even if it was incredibly tempting...

Fortunately by the time she took enough deep breaths through her nose to feel as if she would give a reasonably calm response, he was gone. The dossier was a welcome distraction.

* * *

Shepard's hair was still sticky as she pried off her helm and groaned. Back and forth from Flotilla ship to Flotilla ship for two days had been an adventure, certainly, but right now all she wanted was a nice, long shower after being stuck in her full armor and helm for so long. She had even gone past the point of feeling guilty Tali couldn't indulge in the same. She just wanted some of the special bath soap she'd been saving for a nice occasion, then to turn the stereo system up all the way so she could sing along to some inane pop song and then go to bed after telling Joker where they were going next. She did _not_want to be dragged into a briefing.

"Okay, Kelly," Shepard sighed, looking defeated. "I'll be up there. After fifteen minutes, though, I'm walking out," she grumbled as she stepped into the elevator.

By the time she arrived on the CIC, she was sure she didn't look any better despite trying to get her hair into something more than a matted mess. She was also very sure that taking off her helm had uncorked the unholy scent of many, many hours of accumulated sweat trapped in her suit. No hugs for anyone, she promised herself. Not until she got a shower. A Commander had to draw the line somewhere, after all.

"I promise, Shepard, this is important," Kelly said anxiously, already leading her back to the small conference room. "While you were gone, Vader went to see Miranda -"

"Goddamn, he finally came out of his little hidey-hole?" Shepard groaned. "I was hoping he'd just stay in there forever. You know if he sees his shadow, it's two more months of him being a complete bastard..."

"He gave her this." A few keystrokes and a wealth of information flashed up on the conference room's display. "I've been working with Miranda and EDI to convert all the dates over. The system wasn't that complicated, I think their year unit of measurement is five days or so short of Earth's, as far as we can tell. There's not much - mostly a list of battles he has participated in..."

"Nothing about his personal life?" Shepard muttered, dragging the long list down to browse it quickly on the haptic display.

"Not that I can find, no. The closest he comes is details about his flagship. There's a total crew number in here somewhere."

Shepard finally hit it, eyes widening. "That's..."

"Quite a lot, yeah," Kelly said nervously. "Probably why he finds the Normandy a little small. But that's not why I really wanted to talk with you." Her voice switched to something a bit more tender - almost alarmingly so. "Take a look at the first date listed."

"What, for this... battle of Nauvoo?"

"Naboo."

"Oh, right, sorry. I think my mom said we've got family in Illinois or something. I've just got to convince her that genealogy doesn't mean plucking random people named Shepard out of a book and deciding you're related to them..."

"Shepard, look at the dates," Kelly said softly, gesturing to the first two entries of the dossier. "His birthdate and this first battle."

"That's..." Shepard squinted a moment, doing a quick mental calculation. The next thing that spilled out of her mouth was a long, slow curse. "That can't be right. No way."

"We've checked by every reckoning system we can, Shepard. Miranda even sent him an inquiry and he says the dates are correct. If he's not lying, he really did participate in his first battle at the age of _nine_." Kelly paused a moment to take a deep breath; Shepard rubbed at her face as the reality of this seemed to hit her. "I don't know how much you've studied it in your Spectre training, but there are some classic case studies of child soldiers from Earth that I could forward to you..."

"No, that's... that's fine." Shepard sighed, pulling away. "So you think this whole... thing he's got going on... has its roots in here? Sort of like how Jack is so messed up in the head? Only, we don't even know what they did to him..." Her eyes narrowed as she pawed through the list. "It says that right after this battle, he joined some sort of order... Jedi?"

"I don't think we have enough to really say, but I'd guess some sort of institution. Maybe even a cult. Military or secular, I can't tell." Kelly's voice lowered to nearly a whisper as she tapped the list down. "Whatever they did to him... look. He lists destroying the entire order, years later, when he's an adult. See that phrasing? - He's proud of it. And the word _destroy_..."

"Yeah, I get it. He really hates 'em." Shepard drew away, putting a hand to her chin and, for a brief moment, chewing on the armor of her glove out of idle habit.

"It doesn't excuse him, but it does explain a bit."

"I guess it does." The display had started to slowly auto-scroll again, and the long list of battles marched onwards. "Thanks, Kelly. Good work."


	8. Chapter 8

Out of everyone else on the Normandy, Kasumi knew that Shepard understood her. Some people hummed when they walked. Some people talked with their mouth full. Kasumi stole things. That is to say, she rearranged them. Shepard understood this. Mostly because Shepard hummed off-tune and talked with her mouth full. But she appreciated how all of these things were done with genuine affection, even when Kasumi happened to misplace her favourite _Number 1 Boss! _coffee mug.

So that was why Shepard was pouring another drink while Kasumi cowered on the couch, sweating and shivering in fear.

"I hate to say this," Shepard sighed, "but... he's actually right, Kasumi."

"I wasn't going to do anything!" The thief squeaked, her voice rougher than usual thanks to the shot she had just downed. "I just wanted to look at it. I'm sure it would be valuable to somebody, somewhere, but I didn't care about that. I swear!"

"I know," Shepard soothed. It was Kasumi's way: she had to have it just to _have_. It was overcoming the challenge that mattered, not the end result - the experiences, not the cash. It was why the paintings lined her small makeshift bedroom at one end of the lounge. "He's just... touchy."

"I thought you said that he might be warming up to everyone, what with that service history he wrote for Miranda..."

"Yeah, well, warming up for him is the fact that he didn't kill you. ...How's your throat? There's another shot here if you need it."

"Yes, please!" Kasumi said quickly, staggering to her feet and going to sit on the bar. She crossed her legs, picking up the shot glass delicately and staring into the blended liquors for a moment. Although the rest of her face was inscrutable as usual, hidden in the shadow of her hood, Shepard could see her tattooed bottom lip trembling. "It's just... I've never been so frightened in my life, Shepard. Not even fighting the Collectors with you. He even mentioned Keiji... not by name, but he _knew_... are you sure it's wise to let him have that much unrestricted access to records?"

"I'll talk with him and sort it out," Shepard said firmly. "What did he say, exactly?"

"He wondered what I was doing wasting my time when I could be spending it with the one I love. He said that some people - I think he meant himself - don't have the luxury of having... of having anything left." Kasumi swirled the drink in the small shotglass, momentarily lost in thought. Shepard's hand on her shoulder snapped her out of it.

"Just don't do it again," Shepard half-ordered, half-teased. "You know that one blanket or teddy bear that everyone has when they're little, right? I bet yours was a little stuffed fox."

"It was! How did you know...?"

"Suits you, I guess. I bet you dragged it around until it fell apart at least three times over, right? Because it made you feel safe. That's what Vader's got with that creepy-looking helm." A smile cracked over Kasumi's face. "Just let the baby have his blankie, and don't go trying to steal it again, all right? Promise?"

"I promise," Kasumi said. "...Thanks, Shepard."

"Anytime. I'm going to go talk to him. You rest up and take it easy..."

Truthfully Shepard had been meaning to have this conversation with Vader for several days. She had recited part of it to herself in the bathroom mirror, and she had recruited Kelly's help. But now, fortified with half a shot of the galaxy's strongest liquor, she finally felt as if she had enough bravery to actually go and do what needed to be done.

Two hard raps on the door, a loud call - "Vader?" - before she opened it. Professional courtesy, even if she did have the master keycode to all doorways in the Normandy. The cargo bay looked barely lived in - what part of it she could see. Most of it was cloaked in shadow.

"You know, we can get those overhead lights replaced," Shepard said worriedly. "You just have to put in a service request order..."

"_Shepard._" The snarling voice she had been expected finally came from the darkness. "You didn't come to talk about repairs. Say what you need, and then leave me to my meditation." Yep, she thought, that voice was definitely coming from up there on the pile of boxes. She wouldn't be so easily intimidated by height and darkness. She wasn't two years old. Well, perhaps part of her would be intimidated. But, Shepard reminded herself, she had practiced...

"I've been looking through your service history, and," she said slowly, keeping her voice steady and calm, "I wanted to talk to you about what I said up on the CIC. I don't have a family of my own - just my mother, really, and some friends that may as well be family. So I didn't intend to be so flippant. You're out here for your flesh and blood - I get that. And I respect that."

"You say that as if no-one has ever done anything terrible in the name of family," he said acidly.

A hot blush rose on her cheeks. "Will you just shut up and let me apologize to you? I mean - goddamnit," she half-whined, running a hand through her short red hair and taking a deep breath. "I don't want to turn this into another fight, Vader. You're part of my crew, like it or not, we're in this together. So I came here to say that I'm sorry."

There was no answer for a long moment, and his growling voice was somewhat quieter this time. "An apology is just a means to give up power, Shepard. I doubt you would want to lose any grip that you may have over _me_, much less the rest of your crew."

"We already had this talk. You know, the differences between us - what I do to keep myself from turning into you?"

Silence.

"Look," Shepard said, gesturing widely. "I was too harsh back there, and I didn't give you a fair shake. If we're going to work together..."

"Are you really so naiive that with one handshake and a speech I will suddenly be your _friend_, Shepard?"

Her mouth drew into a thin, tight frown. "I'd settle for not being enemies. That's not quite so naiive."

"More than you would think."

She closed her eyes a moment and sighed. "In any case, we're going to be fighting alongside one another, right? We should at least figure out fighting styles. We're heading to this mining outpost - it's been overrun with Collectors, we're clearing it out and looking for survivors. Killing time while the widget we got that will let us get through the Omega Relay, well, installs itself, I suppose. What I'm saying is - you're invited along to help kill some goddamn bugs, if you want to hack some things to pieces."

Movement in the shadows - Shepard flinched, instinctively reaching for her gun. He rose from a crouch, having jumped off the pile of cargo boxes, finally standing before her at his full and impressive height, face wrapped in the same makeshift mask fitted from the remains of his cloak. And to her surprise, he actually seemed somewhat... enthusiastic.

"When do we leave?"


	9. Chapter 9

"Swear to God, Garrus, one of these days I'm just going to turn around and go _you kids settle down back there or I'll turn this starship right around_," Shepard muttered, thumbing back behind her.

"I thought you said he wasn't going to be quite such a problem." They were cozied up inside the cockpit of the Kodiak drop shuttle, awkwardly looming over the pilot, who was being politely silent.

"It's not him I'm worried about now. It's everyone else. All I want is for everyone to just realize we're off to save the goddamn universe and act like adults, but I'm stuck being camp counselor, you know?"

"Surely it's not _that _bad..."

"You just wait for when you hear this over the comm -" she pitched her voice to a high, nasal whine. "_Shepaaaarrrd, Jack's looooking at me agaaaain! Make her stoo-oooop!_"

This made Garrus laugh and shake his head. "Okay, so maybe that, but..."

"Then I'll hear from Tali that Legion stepped over her tape line in Engineering splitting up the Geth side and the Quarian side. And then Mordin will be annoyed because Grunt's up there next to him going, _I'm not touching you, I'm not touching you _-"

This time, the pilot also laughed, though he immediately looked somewhat bashful. "Uh," he said, quickly clearing his throat. "Dropping to approach vector, Commander, ma'am."

"All right. Time to go get ready, I guess." Shepard gave Garrus a rather thin smile that he returned before they began to shuffle back to the main cabin of the Kodiak.

The shuttle rocked as they hit a thicker portion of the planet's atmosphere, and both of them flailed to keep their balance. Legion, politely sitting in wait, flinched as its pistol was knocked off as it braced itself. And Vader, meanwhile, continued to sit directly across from Legion. His cape barely fluttered. He didn't even open an eye. Instead he sat, legs crossed, meditating.

They leveled out again, and Shepard gave a sigh of relief. Gingerly, Legion reached over to collect the fallen pistol from where it had slid across the floor. From the depths of his makeshift hood, Vader gave a low growl: "If you disturb my meditation, clanker, I will personally disassemble you. With my lightsaber."

Legion's eyeflaps fluttered, and Shepard shook her head no at him, a silent warning not to push it as she sat down on the same bench in the small cabin. After a long moment, the geth silently shifted over to sit closer to Shepard.

By the time they landed, it was enough to be distracted by giving each of their weapons a once-over. Truthfully, Shepard had almost forgotten about Vader being there until the doorway opened and they were ready to step out onto the planet's surface. She jumped at the long shadow before giving a nervous laugh as he loomed over her shoulder. "Well, Vader, welcome to the glamorous mining planet of Aequitas." She turned, offering him an extra pistol, holding it by the barrel.

He snorted. "And what is that supposed to be?"

"Your sidearm." She squinted at him. "You know, bang bang, shoot shoot? We find them pretty useful around here."

"An inelegant and crude weapon. I have all I need." He pushed his way past her, striding into the mine's entrance, not waiting for further directions.

While his back was turned, Shepard lapsed into a moment of silent pantomime, making an absurd face in mockery of Vader's seriousness before taking a few steps forward in an overdramatic marching manner. It was enough to make Garrus give a hiccuping snort of a stifled laugh before he walked up and lightly punched Shepard in the arm. It was a last bit of lighthearted play before they entered the gaping maw of the abandoned mine.

"Too quiet," Shepard muttered. A few more steps forward, and then there was a blur of light and motion -

And the Husk was down before it even got near them. Vader's lightsaber thrummed in the air.

Shepard let her rifle drop, blinking rapidly. There hadn't even been enough time to aim, and it was over. "...Well, I guess my hunch was right. Goddamn husks everywhere," she said warily. "Eyes open, they like to swarm."

"Yes, ma'am," Garrus called back, and Legion similarly responded with a "Understood, Shepard-Commander." Vader said nothing, but continued moving forward, his lightsaber out, illuminating the dark tunnels. Shepard silently grit her teeth. Garrus had heard her speech at least three times by now: a battle should be like a good restaurant's kitchen. Line cooks constantly shouted up and down, communicating with the head chef to get the food out in a coordinated manner. A battlefield shouldn't be silent, just for the same reason.

"Husks, left!"

Rifles raised, they all took aim - only to be cut short. Vader was already leaping ahead, a whirl of glowing lines, red arcs crashing down onto the husks as they came. It was breathtaking in a way Shepard hadn't expected. A master craftsman at his work. The husks rushed him blindly, used to smothering victims used to ranged weaponry, leaving them helpless. But here they were being drawn into his trap.

Shepard slowly pulled herself up out of cover, blinking rapidly.

"Well," she said dryly, "I guess this is damn easy, then. Just follow the one-man glowstick rave of death."

And they did.

It was silent, but it happened instantly, and Shepard was thankful it did. The understanding between them solidified, almost tangible. He did not flinch and turn in fury when a bullet sped by his head to hit the Abomination coming up behind him. And Shepard, struggling, elbows out as she tried to kick a pack of Husks away, did not scream as the red lightsaber danced around her. Vader saved her life. Shepard saved his. Garrus saved them all, as did Legion.

A team. A unit. Soldiers.

The mine started to crumble behind them as they scrambled back to the Kodiak, Husks destroyed, artifact's influence neutralized. This time, Vader did not stride ahead from the rest. Shepard reached up, clasping him on the shoulder - he flinched and glared at her.

"Good work. Thanks for coming with us, Vader."

He said nothing, but very slowly nodded in acknowledgment.


	10. Chapter 10

"Are you there, God? It's me, Shepard."

Shepard didn't pray often. Given her status as third-generation lapsed Catholic, religion had more or less been the albatross of guilt around her neck that she proudly inherited from her mother. But now she had her hands clasped, kneeling by the bed, chancing one peek upwards through the window into open space.

"If I die, can I die _for real_ this time? Or if not, can I at least not wake up really weirdly indebted to a bunch of jerks? Because I'm not sure where we go after Cerberus, I mean, I'd rather not be a reaper or something."

A steady knock pounded on her door.

"Also, while I'm sure praising Your name for eternity is really nice, I do my praising best with a gun, you know? Doesn't even have to be serious, but if there's not even a couple of paintball games, it's going to be really, really boring."

The knock intensified.

"Maybe something a little more serious than that, though. But if there could be, you know, a battle where nobody but the bad guys get seriously hurt, and then off to the side, maybe some wine, and those little tiny hot dogs like they had at the classy party Kasumi dragged me to -"

"SHEPARD!" Her door was now rattling as if dangerously close to coming off of the hinge completely.

"But yeah, definitely wine, since I know You're cool with that. But just a big battle, that'd be great. I mean, it wouldn't be really be dangerous. It's not like I could double die. Or if I double die does that mean I come back to life?"

"SHEPARD, _I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE._"

"Uh, anyway, keep on being awesome, Christ, since that's kind of Your gig. Some help would be nice with this whole collector thing, so, uh, bye. I mean amen. Amen!" She scrambled up, dusting herself off, before answering back in a yell: "I'M COMING! JUST A SECOND!" Despite the yell, she took time to adjust her uniform before opening the door, one hand resting on the doorframe, the other on her hip. "Sorry, Vader. I was having, y'know, a religious moment."

His eyes narrowed as he crossed his hands over his chest. "_Why_ do you keep delaying this mission?"

"I'm not delaying it, we've got to wait until the IFF's integrated..."

"This supposedly vital piece of technology should not take _days_ to install," he growled. He was oddly jittery, she could tell – anxious energy, stemming from worry. "Show me where it needs to be and I'll install it _myself_."

"If you think this thing could be bashed into place with a spanner, don't you think I would've done just that a long time ago?" Shepard sighed. "We have to get it integrated into the Normandy's system. We're of no use to anybody if we arrive as just a bunch of scrap."

"If it has taken _this_ long, the unit you acquired is likely faulty at best, or a trap meant to mark us as outsiders -" His tone was abrasive and acidic, as usual.

"Vader."

"I am not interested in _yet more excuses_, Shepard -"

"Vader, I'm not your enemy here." Hearing it stated so boldly was at least enough to get him to momentarily quiet. "We both want to get through the Omega 4 relay. We both want to get to the Collector base. And we both want to rescue your son."

He snorted. "Don't lie to me, Shepard. That is _my_ issue. Yours is separate -"

"It became my problem when you stepped on board."

"You can't simply run an errand and win my undying loyalty. I am not as easily swayed as Miranda or Jacob, or as gullible as any of the aliens on board."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not asking for undying loyalty," Shepard said wryly. Her lips were already starting to part with a continued answer before EDI's calm voice interrupted them.

"Commander Shepard. As per suggestion, Miranda has gathered the team in the Kodiak so that the IFF integration may be completed here without interfering with the next mission. By the time you get back, the IFF will be fully online and ready for the Omega 4 jump."

Shepard's blue eyes flicked backwards to EDI's display in her cabin before a small smile started to tug on one side of her lips. "Thanks, EDI. Tell them I'm on my way down. ...Well, Vader? You coming?"

"...Certainly."

The Kodiak was cramped enough with everyone aboard, and Vader's presence simply made it seem that much smaller. Of course, Kasumi and Legion were vying for who got the spot farthest away from Vader (yet next to Shepard). Nobody was willing to sit next to him, leaving a wide gap on the benches. Shepard was sure the pilot didn't appreciate the lopsided weight distribution, but she didn't try to step in and correct the situation. Once they were underway and Vader began meditating, it was actually fairly easy to ignore him, as if he were a large black gargoyle the ship had suddenly sprouted.

Fortunately, Mordin had managed to replicate a set of cards at Shepard's request. It was a way to kill time and keep spirits light. Although Grunt had scoffed and called it silly, now the krogan was staring cross-eyed at his cards with intense concentration. Predictably, Mordin was busy beating them all, and Miranda had opted not to play (instead focusing on reviewing reports), but that didn't stop them from having fun.

"Blue-five," Garrus gloated, setting his card down on the pile.

Next to him, Tali gave a sigh and slumped a little in her seat. Shepard couldn't help giving a smile. "No fives, Tali?"

"And no blues," she grumbled, reaching over to take the pile in the middle, awkwardly stuffing all of the cards into her hand before wagging a finger at Garrus.

"All right, Grunt, you're up," Shepard said with a smile as the krogan frowned at his cards.

The pilot's voice came from the cockpit. "Commander, top priority transmission coming in from the Normandy for you."

"I'm coming – just skip me this round," she said, giving the group a smile as she shufflingly made her way out.

With no Shepard there to stick close to, Kasumi ended up smushed against Legion. After a few moments she looked up at the geth and teased: "You know, you're cuddlier than you look."

Legion's headflaps flared. "This mobile platform was not designed for... cuddles."

"I bet if you stuffed a pillow into that hole, it'd be even better."

"Pillows are not standard for combat optimization."

"I'm sure we can get one of Shepard's with the N7 logo on it so you can match!"

"...repairs to that hole have been completed." The geth was silent for a moment before seeming to finally realize that Kasumi was teasing. "We do not fully understand teasing banter. Inaccurate portrayal of information is typically inefficient."

Kasumi lapsed into quiet giggles, and the game of cards continued.

A few moments later, Shepard entered the main cabin once more, noticeably pale. She braced herself a moment against the doorframe, and Garrus raised his head. "Something wrong, Shepard?"

She gulped solidly. "Collectors hit the Normandy."

The quiet happiness of the card game evaporated as they all stared at her. She reached up to wipe at her face a moment with a gloved hand. "Ship's all right. Joker's all right. He's the only one left." Another pause, and she pulled away from the doorframe. "Keep playing if you want, just deal me out. As soon as we're back we're heading to the relay, so have fun and relax while you can, all right?"

The group quietly nodded in assent, most of them looking somewhat worried, following her each footstep as she went to sit across from Vader, putting her head in her hands for a moment. The silence seemed to help her, but didn't last for long.

Vader opened one eye, peering at her. "And suddenly, it becomes an emergency, now that your crew is gone, while earlier you were happy to take your time."

"Don't start, Vader. I'm not interested."

"Simply noting how amusing it is that your reaction has changed -"

"I said. _I'm not interested_." She rose from the seat, purposefully turning her back on him.

The card game didn't resume, but Kasumi and Legion both looked with something approximating envy as Shepard wiggled into the seat beside Garrus, silent for the rest of the trip back.


	11. Chapter 11

"I think I broke a rib," Joker groaned. "..._all_ of them."

"But we're here, because you're the best goddamn pilot I've ever known," Shepard praised, reaching out to clasp Joker's shoulder. He looked grateful even if the gesture made him give a rather undignified squeak of pain.

The trip through the relay had gone, Shepard thought, actually quite better than expected. Although the Normandy was now resting on the Collector base itself after a rather hard landing, everyone had made it – despite every attempt by the Collectors to keep them from getting that far. The shielding held. The new cannons proved themselves useful.

Now, of course, came the hard part.

She reached over to tap at the haptic display, turning the comm on. "We're safe here for the moment. Everyone, meet me in the conference room. We've got a base we need to destroy."

Much to her surprise, Vader actually showed up, even if it was a little late. He even slipped in as if trying to politely not disrupt the meeting. Truthfully, Shepard felt slightly guilty at seeing him. When running through everyone who had survived, she had forgotten that he was on the ship. Nonetheless, she was glad that he was there, and even chanced flashing him a brief smile.

"...Yes. Tali, you're up as tech expert. Jacob will lead the fire team around this way, I'll lead another team to keep them from noticing what you're up to. Samara, Garrus, you two are with me. Rest of you with Jacob. It's a longer route but you have the firepower to really raise some hell. Rendezvous here, at these doors. Then we'll press on into this central chamber."

Miranda frowned, apparently not having noticed Vader's entrance. "And Vader will be going with the fire team?"

"Uh..." Shepard glanced up at Vader for a moment. "No. He'll be taking his own route, as I understand it, doing Vader-like things."

"And what exactly does that mean?" Miranda said, rather snide in tone.

"Hitting the Collectors like the lovechild of an industrial mincer and a glowstick, leaving nothing but itty bitty pieces in his wake. At least, that's what I'm guessing."

"More or less correct," Vader said, having positioned himself behind Miranda so that when he finally spoke she gave a comical all-over flinch immediately followed by an aggravated sigh.

"Great. So everyone's got their assignments." Shepard paused a long moment before gulping and then speaking, voice softer than before. "I'm not sure what else I can say. All of you know why we're here and what we're doing. Nobody's expecting this to be easy. But we're all damn good at what we do, and I know this team can do this." She momentarily locked eyes with Vader. "Every single one of us. We'll make sure that this stops – here and now, the Collectors won't take any more. And we'll make sure we bring our people home.

"Go give 'em hell and make me proud."

Jacob was already organizing his group as Samara and Garrus walked alongside Shepard. She took in a deep breath and let it out through pursed lips. Pre-battle jitters were expected, but still annoying. _Just aim, shoot, move, don't let what's on the line get to you_...

The thrum of a lightsaber made her look back. Vader was striding beside them, weapon already out. "Going to join us?"

"No. ...Shadowing you. Different route, same beginning and end. With a nearby distraction, there will be less interference for the smaller group."

"Thanks, Vader. That'll make it easier on us."

"It's sound strategy, Shepard, not a personal favor to you." However, there was a warmth in his voice that seemed to indicate her approval wasn't entirely dismissed.

Ahead, there came the sound of buzzing – Collectors flying in. Immediately Shepard dove for cover, as did Samara and Garrus, guns up, already planning how to lean out and shoot before ducking back to safety. Vader, however, continued striding on, seemingly completely unconcerned.

"Dammit! _Vader!_ What are you doing?" Shepard half-yelled. "These aren't like husks, they're not going to come running to melee range! They're going to _shoot_, and if you don't have cover -"

The gunfire came hard and thick, the Collectors aiming at the solitary figure in the open. With simple nonchalance, Vader reached up with his free hand, holding it palm outward. There was no purple-blue flash of biotics. Despite that, the bullets rained down at his feet, bouncing harmlessly off something unseen he was holding in front of him.

"I have plenty of cover, Shepard," he answered calmly, though with a sly tone that made her think he was smiling under the mask.

She gaped a moment. "...You know, I should have expected that. You pulling out something goddamn crazy, I mean."

Vader didn't stop to listen, instead continuing on. With him drawing fire, the group was easy enough to pick off, especially as he started to run, gaining speed as he charged. Lightsaber out, he launched himself at the group, slicing the rifle of one Collector in half before jamming his saber into its forehead. It gave an awful twitch as it fell, sliding off of the lightsaber's beam. One of the buglike Collectors began to rise up, exoskeleton cracking with golden glow as Harbinger's voice echoed; before Harbinger could finish taking control, the Collector's body was in at least four pieces, lightsaber easily slicing through. It fell to the ground in a messy pile.

Shepard pulled out of cover, grinning. Tali's voice crackled on the comm. "Shepard! The vent is blocked – there's a valve, I think you'll have to open it – and it's getting hot in here – please hurry!"

"On my way, Tali," she answered quickly. As they sprinted to the green console by the vent, she heard the thrumming buzz of Vader's lightsaber fade, splitting from their path, heading deeper into the Collector base.


	12. Chapter 12

"Get in, get in, get in!"

Shepard flailed with one arm, trying to get a little suppressing fire as she did. Garrus nearly rolled through the door, barely avoiding tripping in the last few steps. There was a blur of movement descending from the ceiling, but she didn't flinch – Vader followed Garrus in, staggering slightly and nearly running into the other group.

"Come on, Tali, you can do this," Shepard coached as the quarian frantically pawed at the haptic display. The doors weren't closing, not all the way, at least – so Shepard stood her ground, picking off a few more of the Collectors with lucky shots.

"Got it!" Tali cried triumphantly, and the doors finally slammed closed. There was a communal sigh of relief. A short breather between challenges. Everyone was there – one small victory in what was sure to be a grueling series of battles. To Shepard's relief, everyone looked to be in one piece. Smudges of blood here and there, just scrapes and bruises so far... except for the blossom of blood, staining the black even darker... "Vader. You're hit."

"I'm fine, Shepard," he immediately bit out, a gloved hand going to cover the wound on his side as if covering it up. It wasn't a bad injury, but it was still a wound. His voice held a distinct aggravation, though Shepard knew the tone, the soldier's mantra of self-blame for every injury.

"Look, we have medi-gel -"

"I am _fine_," he growled, backing up a little and leaning against the wall as Shepard pursued him.

"Just hold still a moment goddamnit!" She snapped, wrenching his arm away, her omnitool glowing a pleasant gold as she applied a dose of medi-gel. The mix immediately sealed the wound, the cocktail of drugs immediately soothing pain and promoting healing. He seemed shocked at her sudden burst of anger, and said nothing, frozen in place.

Shepard did not know how much her frown, there because of genuine worry over him, reminded him of another woman he knew long ago – a dark-haired Senator who had cared for him as more than just an ally.

"You shouldn't have wasted such resources," Vader finally chided after Shepard stepped back. Behind her, Miranda frowned, looking ready to agree.

"Not wasted. You're still here to fight, and you'll fight better if you're not bleeding all over the place." She ran a hand through her hair, looking around the group. "We're not far from the main chamber, right? Should be through here." As she began to walk, they followed her. "And the crew. We'll get them, and then figure out where..." The vast expanse of the main chamber rose up above them, and her voice trailed off, distant. "...next."

The size of the chamber was awe-inspiring, though awe quickly gave way into horror. Long lines of green-gold pods lined the walls, light refracting through them in a way that was almost beautiful until the figures within became clear. Humans – limp, trapped. Most of the pods were empty, but the silhouettes of those still inside were easily spotted, like the hard seed inside a pomegranate pip.

"Here – one of the colonists -" Miranda pointed before looking up, squinting. None of the rest of them could place the next group of figures, most of them in white armor. Vader, however, seemed to recognize them. Immediately he began climbing with agility Shepard could not have guessed he had, frantically searching.

The trapped colonist flinched.

"Oh my God, she's alive – get her out of there!"

The colonist shook herself off, eyes snapping open wide. Desperately, she clawed at the pod; her screams were silenced as the liquid around her changed color and her form started to crumble – going black, limbs first, until her eyes rolled back in her head and the blackness spread through her torso – only sludge left. There was a sickening slurp, and the liquid was sucked out, leaving a pristine and empty pod.

Shepard stared, wide-eyed, finally stepping back from where she had been trying to break into the pod. Everyone was already moving, and the order was redundant: "Find our people, break 'em out! _Now!_"

By the time Vader finally made his way back down, the crew was huddled together, most of them weeping reflexively. "...Mordin, you escort them back."

"Are you sure it's wise to lose a member of the team -" Miranda spoke up, only to be cut off.

"_Mordin will escort them back to the Normandy_. No-one gets left behind." Shepard said firmly before looking around the group, putting her hand on Kelly's shoulder. "Can everyone walk? At least stumble along with a partner?" There was a wave of dazed nods. "Okay – okay, good..." She glanced back to see Vader pacing back and forth in anxious energy. "Vader – any luck?"

"No. He's not here." His answer was curt, trying to disguise how worried he was.

"His son, right?" Kelly said, dazedly. "I think..." She shook her head, choking back a sob, unable to get anything out.

Chakwas was in better shape, though she was still a bit shaky. "...Is he – somewhat short, light brown hair, wearing black...?"

Vader nearly pounced on her, barely restraining himself from grabbing her by the shoulders. "_Yes!_ Where is he?"

"They led him past us -" Chakwas had to pause, shaking her head as if trying to remove any lingering influence, gathering her thoughts.

"Not in a pod?" Shepard pressed, her tone a bit more calm and respectful compared to Vader's.

"No, they were... marching him somewhere." She gestured onwards. "I suppose they wanted him conscious for something – experimentation, maybe..."

It was all Vader needed to start storming off in the general direction, but Shepard gave a shout. "Hey! - Vader. We're heading on through to the core. Fire team is going to be through that way -" she gestured - "until we secure the door and get them through. Make sure you find us, keep your comm line open."

"My safety is not your concern," he snapped back.

"No-one gets left behind. Not you, not your son."

His stance softened and he nodded. "I'll be there."

"See you on the other side, then, Vader."

He took off at a jog, lightsaber lit and in hand. Shepard gave a sigh, shaking her head, before Chakwas reached out to her. "Shepard..."

"I'm still here," she soothed.

"Vader's son... I believe they were keeping him alive as some sort of indoctrination project. When he passed us... he was screaming at them. Something about how his memories were his own, how they needed to stop trying to steal them."

An involuntary shiver ran up Shepard's back. "...like on that supposedly dead Reaper. Damn." She sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Thanks, Chakwas. I'll... I'll keep my eyes open. Right now, you follow Mordin, and get back to the Normandy." The doctor nodded, and Mordin gathered up the group, leading the crew onwards with his usual energetic assurance.

Shepard craned her neck, peering down a corridor, hoping to catch another glimpse of Vader. It was far too late.

"Right... Samara, Garrus, you're with me. Time to get through these Seekers and open the door."


	13. Chapter 13

"Just a little further – come on! Get in, get in, get in – close the -" Shepard's mouth hung open. "Wait, _wait!_ Keep the door open!"

The last member of the fire team had ducked in by the time she spotted a figure running towards them – not a Collector, but human. As he came closer, it was obvious that it was Vader, the limp body of a young man slung over his shoulder. Shepard leaned out of the doorway, providing what suppressing fire she could until Vader finally made it in; the door closed behind him, bullets hitting the doorway after it slammed shut.

Another pause in the fighting. Shepard gave a long sigh. "All right, so..."

"Commander?" Her omnitool glowed as the comm flicked on. "Hostiles already starting to mass behind that door you just closed. It won't be long before they burst through."

She cursed softly. "Thanks for the heads-up, Joker."

Vader put the limp young man down with a tenderness she hadn't expected him to be capable of. As Samara kneeled beside him, Vader didn't seem to object. He was busy clipping something to his son's belt – a small metal cylinder – presumably, his son's lightsaber returned to its owner.

No-one left behind, Shepard reminded herself. "How is he?"

There was a long moment without an answer, and Shepard gulped nervously. "...come on, I can see he's still breathing. Samara?"

"I am certain I can keep him stable until Chakwas can see him, but it will take most of my attention away from the battle ahead, as well as the rest of our stores of medi-gel."

Vader cursed low underneath his breath. "I told you that you shouldn't have wasted such resources on me earlier," he snapped at Shepard before shaking his head as if in apology.

"So that leaves us one down at the rear guard, here." Shepard paced back and forth a moment, running a hand through her hair.

It was the first good look she had gotten at Vader's son, and she couldn't help but curiously examine him. A strong chin, a relatively handsome face – Shepard admitted without hesitation that about ten years ago, under different circumstances, she probably would have bought the young man a drink and winked at him from across the room. But he was pale, save for the dark purple-black of bruises, and his frame was thin in a way that suggested sudden, rapid weight loss – while the pods apparently kept bodies in stasis, prisoners outside them were afforded no such luxuries as food. There were a few prominent wounds, most notable one on his leg, a clean bullet-hole through the meat of his calf: a shot meant to cripple and slow, but not to kill. So, he was a valuable prisoner… and one who had tried to escape, multiple times, from the bruises. Once, quite recently. At least that was evidence he wasn't yet indoctrinated – or not yet _fully_ indoctrinated.

No-one left behind, Shepard reminded herself.

"All right. …We need defense mostly on ranged, but I'm sure Vader will manage to pick up a little of the slack while Samara's busy. I'll just take Tali with me to help set the charges. If we're careful, we can make it, just the two of us –"

"That won't be necessary." Vader slowly rose, lifting his head to meet Shepard's gaze. "I'm coming with you."

"But your son -?"

"I have done all that I can for him."

Shepard's lips pursed in a question that she shook off, unanswered. It was subtle, but there was a thread of vulnerability in his voice. Enough for her to realize that now was not the time nor the place to press him on such a matter.

"…All right. We'll be in closer quarters combat, hopping from platform to platform, anyway." She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile before stepping up onto a slightly higher level of the platform. The group naturally gathered around, even Samara looking up at Shepard patiently from her post beside Vader's son. "I guess it's time for another speech, huh?" Her smile betrayed some of her nervousness, and Shepard put her hands on her hips, looking at her feet a moment before bringing her head up. "It may not seem like it, but we have the Collectors off-balance. They're cowards, used to ambushing and then running. They've never had to fight off someone directly, certainly not someone like us. I _know_ that all of you will make me proud – and will make yourselves proud.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's go raise hell."


	14. Chapter 14

"Well. Here goes nothing."

Shepard slammed her hand against the console, looking back to give Tali a thin smile. The quarian was clutching her shotgun closely at the ready - and Shepard fully understood the impulse as she cradled her assault rifle like a child. Only Vader seemed nearly relaxed as the platform rose.

"EDI - all the tubes are leading here. Can you give us any idea what they're for?"

Even EDI seemed on edge, her usually calm voice filtered through Shepard's omnitool. "The tubes are feeding into some kind of super-structure. It is emitting both organic and non-organic energy signatures. Given these readings, it must be massive."

The platform's lift systems thrummed gently beneath them, and Shepard glanced out of the corner of her eye at Vader. As they exited the tunnel into a wider atrium, she saw him stiffen and flinch before she turned her head and similarly gawked.

"Shepard... if my calculations are correct, the super-structure is... a Reaper."

Slowly, Shepard gulped. "..._Goddamn._"

"Keelah!" Tali murmured in apparent agreement.

"It looks... human, or the start of one."

"Precisely," EDI answered.

The massive structure loomed over them, and EDI continued speaking in a clear, even tone. "It appears the Collectors have processed tens of thousands of humans." Shepard, meanwhile, was not staring at the Reaper, but at Vader. Despite being unable to see her face, Tali's emotions were obvious - shock, horror, grim determination. But Vader continued standing at attention with military precision, only the thin slit of his eyes visible underneath the makeshift mask. "Significantly more will be required to complete the Reaper." It was merely his eyes, but she could see something there... something other than the usual steely hatred. "This Reaper appears to be at a very early stage of development." Sympathy? No, that wasn't right. But something more clear, more true. His eyes hadn't moved from staring at the Reaper as it hung in front of them. "An embryo, in human terms." Maybe it reminded him of something. "The process can be stopped, but it is unclear exactly how much it has developed." This amalgamation of flesh and steel, this creature that was being created instead of born, neither mechanical nor biological but stuck in torturous in-between... "I cannot, for example, tell you if it has awareness." Maybe the Reaper reminded Vader of someone, something. Maybe the Reaper reminded Vader of himself.

In the calm before the battle, Shepard noted that she had not realized Vader's eyes were such a lovely pale blue.

"Well, I guess Kaidan gets to call me baby-killer next time he sees me," Shepard joked weakly. It was impossible to laugh while facing down such a menacing foe, but she tried anyway before letting it lapse into a cough as she tried to save face. "We need to bring this thing down, EDI."

"The large tubes injecting the fluid are a weak structural link. Destroying them should cause the structure to collapse, and the Reaper to fall."

"Got it -" A loud buzzing alerted them, and Shepard ducked into cover. "Dealing with some old friends, first!" Another platform floated in, engines thrumming, and the Collectors on board began to fire. And yet Vader continued to stand there, stoic - feet firmly planted, lightsaber drawn - like a man on a cliffside, unflinchingly facing the roaring sea whipped into a frenzy by a coming storm. The first bullets were already starting to fly. There was no time to ruminate on what he was thinking.

And yet -

He locked eyes with her. "Shepard. _Bring it down._"

"Yessir!" It was reflex, and she immediately winced. Likely that would be fodder for another patronizing lecture mixed with gloating. But he was already leaping ahead, outrunning Tali's combat drone to meet the Collectors head-on. That left Tali in relative safety, and Shepard was free to wrestle out her sniper rifle. Her hands were shaking as she lined up the first shot. Surely she wasn't that nervous - a deep breath, time to remember what Garrus had told her...

The shot struck true, breaking apart the feeding tube in an arc of glowing yellow sludge and broken glass. An unholy howl came from the Reaper, though she could not tell whether it was the sound of failing mechanics or a cry of pain.

Protective sheaths slid down over the feeding tubes once more, and she fumbled for her assault rifle. Vader barely flinched as she picked off a Collector to his left, bullet arcing by his ear. The way he was cutting through the waves of Collectors made it seem effortless - enviably so, since when Shepard pulled back into cover, she was wincing, her shields and armor not enough to keep a bullet from grazing her upper arm.

But the battle was going quickly. Adrenaline fuelled the noise of her own rapid heartbeat in her ears. There was time for two shots, now - and as Tali gave a yelp of pain, the sheaths withdrew once more - it was close, so very close -

The last support shattered in a golden spray, and gave an awful groan. With a miserable clatter, the Reaper fell out of view.

It took a few moments before Shepard finally felt as if she could stand up, half leaning on her sniper rifle. "Ground team, you still there?"

A wave of relief broke over her when Garrus' voice responded. "We're here, but won't be for much longer!"

"Gather them up, get to the Normandy. We're about to blow this place sky-high. ...Space-high. ...We're going to blow it up, goddammit." She lowered her voice, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Vader. "How's the kid?"

"Fine. Samara's been keeping a biotic shield up on him whenever we have to move."

"Good. ...Joker!"

"Commander?"

"Fire up the engines. Let's get the hell out of here." She gave a sigh, dropping the comm line after Joker confirmed the order. Tali was already busily setting charges, her fingers darting over the circuitry. And Vader was still at the edge of the platform, staring out into the distance as if he could see something they couldn't...

"Uh, Commander?" Joker's questioning tone made her heart leap, her mind filled with horrible possibilities in a split second - the Normandy was broken, perhaps, or the ground team had been cut off - "Incoming signal from the Illusive Man. EDI's patching it through."

She cursed softly underneath her breath, no time to belay the order. Instead her omnitool flickered to life and the Illusive Man appeared. "Shepard. You've done the impossible." His deceptively friendly voice held its usual golden glow.

But she was tired, sweaty, worried, and her shoulder hurt. "Throw me a damn party once we're out of here, then. What do you want?" A dark shadow moved over her shoulder, and she gave a flinch. Vader was looming over her, now, circling slowly in a predatory manner. He didn't seem curious about the Illusive Man as much as he was waiting for her reaction.

"This is our chance, Shepard. I've been looking over the schematics EDI uploaded. A timed radiation pulse would kill the Collectors, but leave the technology intact -"

"No."

"This knowledge - this framework - could _save_ us -"

"Short answer, no. Long answer, _nnnoooo-oooo-oooo._ And if you want a different answer, _no way in hell_." She reached up to run a hand through her hair.

"This base is a gift! We can't just destroy it -"

"Joker, lose this channel."

She glanced back at Vader, trying to figure out his expression. His approval wouldn't affect her decision, but she couldn't help but be curious whether he agreed with the Illusive Man or not. Vader was, as usual, inscrutable. Tali at least seemed to approve, from the way her posture was more relaxed as she stood.

"The charge is set, Shepard. We have ten minutes until -"

A horrible grating scream erupted from behind them, and the platform shook. A massive mechanical hand clawed at the edge before the Reaper pulled itself up, metal mouth gaping, furious - and very much alive.

"Damn, damn, _damn!_" Shepard chanted as she dove for cover, fumbling for the grenade launcher. Tali gave a small shriek as she rolled out of the way, the Reaper firing a beam from its mouth that cut smoothly through the cover they were able to find. "Don't panic! We can do this! Just focus fire on -"

A black blur leaped up over her, accompanied by the steady thrum of a lightsaber. Vader leaped ahead with a fury and conviction Shepard had never seen before. He was easily dwarfed by the Reaper, but that did not seem to give him even a moment's pause. Instead he launched himself into the fray, clinging to the Reaper larva's arm. The platform rocked violently again as the Reaper slipped and clawed its way back up, only to give a howl of pain as Vader stabbed at its eye.

The whir of another platform gliding up to them was barely noticeable, but Shepard leaned out of cover, rifle in hand. It was an unspoken trust. Vader had given her cover while she worked, and now she would repay him in turn. One of the Collectors raised its gun to try and aim for Vader as he clawed his way up the Reaper; Shepard quickly dispatched it with a well-placed shot. The Reaper flailed wildly, trying to shake Vader off while keeping its grip, full of immature and blind fury.

It wouldn't be long, now - connections were fraying with sparks, a small fire dotted the Reaper's side, and its grip was becoming more and more feeble. Shepard leaned out of cover, raising her voice above the clamor of battle. "Vader! Pull back, _pull back_, we can finish it off from here!" He didn't even raise his head, apparently ignoring her completely. "Jump off and pull back!" The Reaper gave a groan, its fingers clawing at the platform, leaving deep scratches in its wake. And still, Vader didn't lift his head, the bright red lightsaber biting into the Reaper's mechanical flesh.

And then its fingers disappeared over the side altogether.

"JUMP, DAMMIT!"

Shepard hurled herself out of cover, dropping her rifle to her side. She barely stopped herself in time, scrambling not to fall off the edge, immediately crouching down and offering a hand out. The Reaper larvae was feebly clawing at the sides of the chamber, trying to delay its fall.

"JUMP! _JUMP, GODDAMN IT, VADER!_"

He was hard to see, now, clinging to the Reaper's shoulder. She swore that he looked directly at her, making eye contact despite the distance. She stretched her hand out further, fingers straining.

"_**JUMP!**_"

Her voice went shrill and rough in panic, and she nearly threw Tali off as the quarian pulled her back from the edge. A moment later and the makeshift mask - the torn piece of black cloak - Vader had never let himself be seen without fluttered up in the air. While the Reaper and Vader continued to descend, it hung in the air, a banner, a flag, a sign for some victory that Shepard wasn't sure of.

Then the platform beneath her feet rocked violently as the Reaper's dying explosion hit. They tumbled through the air, slipping uncontrollably, hurtling towards something -

The next Shepard remembered was the pain as the support pressed down upon her. She shook in exhaustion as she pressed up, lifting the beam off of her, and spent a few moments panting dizzily. Her mind was buzzing with furious questions. This was too much like Virmire... so alike and yet so different... but Tali was waking up, giving a sharp groan, and Shepard was there to help her to her feet.

"...Do you copy?" Joker's voice was raw with worry. "C'mon, don't leave me hanging, Shepard! Do you copy?"

"I'm... I'm here, Joker. ...Did the ground team make it?"

"They're all here."

"Good. ...let's get the hell out of this place."


	15. Chapter 15

There would be time later for her to figure it all out.

The adrenaline was still coursing through her even as she wandered the Normandy. The ship limped back to the Relay, on course to Omega for basic repairs. It was done, but it didn't seem finished, even as tiredness weighed down her limbs like lead. Chakwas was busy attending to all the bruises, strains, breaks and wounds of the crew. They were all safe. All except...

There would be time later.

For now, the doors to her cabin wheezed open. It looked as if the Normandy had tossed her possessions about in some game of field darts. A plain black high-heeled shoe was perched in her old, cracked N7 helmet, and Shepard wondered how many points it was worth. Even the fish were all there, looking slightly shaken and swimming in dizzy circles. The contents of her desk were on the floor. At least her favourite coffee mug hadn't shattered.

Shepard stumbled to her bed before flopping backwards onto it, too tired to shimmy out of her armor, much too tired to even move further. Her legs dangled off the side of the bed, arms spread wide. The throbbing of her own heartbeat in her ears was music enough, coupled with the gentle pace of her own breathing. Her ribs ached. Her leg dully screamed in pain. But there was the steady beat, tethering her to the bed.

Eventually the memories would fade, but right now, when she closed her eyes, all she could see was the shaft, the Reaper clawing to try and stop its fall, and all the ledges and hooks were lit up in her mind like night on the Vegas strip. _He could have jumped._ There were so many ways up. There was her hand, stretching out. But all he had done was looked at her... almost as if he wanted that to happen. The way he said there was nothing more he could do for his son...

Had his eyes always been that blue?

Her heartbeat, the steady soothing cadence, slammed against her worried thoughts like the ocean pounding on cliffside rocks. Eventually the surf swallowed her - the soft darkness and peacefulness.

It was less than an hour later that Garrus knocked first and finally opened the door. "Shepard?" He took a few steps in, giving a start - "Shepard!" - and she still did not answer, but he immediately relaxed as he saw her chest rising and falling. Gently, he reached out to touch her cheek, brushing a bit of her curly hair out of her face, showing an affection he was too timid to display openly.

"Mmnh." Her lips pursed slightly.

"...Shepard, stop snoring," Garrus gently teased.

"Ggnph." Her nose wrinkled as if she was about to sneeze, but a yawn erupted from her instead, coupled with a wince. "...Don't fug'n snore."

"Yeah, you do too snore. ...come on, Chakwas says you're overdue for a visit." He reached down, dragging her up despite her groan. Fumblingly trying to be independent, she stumbled up, trying to stand on her own before accepting Garrus' help. Her armor had gone rigid around her fractured leg, but the medigel reserves were running low, and inflammation and pain were creeping up on her once more. By the time they reached the lift, she was leaning on him more directly, then finally let her head drop to rest against his armor. He didn't seem to mind in the least.

She was still dizzily half-asleep by the time they reached the medical bay, but she still managed to weakly raise her head and give a woozy cry of "Whoo, party in the MedBay!" at the crowd there. Joker cracked a smile and Jacob openly gave a small laugh, even as Garrus guided Shepard onto a bed.

It was hours later when she gave a snort and a groan, followed by a yawn. "...Damn. How long was I out?"

"Five and a half hours," Chakwas answered smoothly. "Garrus is right. You _do_ snore." Shepard gave a grunt, trying to lift herself up, but was quickly chastised. "Don't try to get up yet. Your ribs are nearly as cracked as Joker's, after all you've been through."

With an air of resignation, Shepard flopped back, though she closed her eyes as if letting herself enjoy a moment of peace, though somewhat guilty about it. "...Where's the rest of the crew?"

"Miranda and Kelly are up in the CIC. Joker's resting, as is Jacob, Tali and Kasumi. Most of them had sprains and bruises, the occasional bullet-wound. Everyone will be fine in two weeks, maximum. Except..."

"Except what?"

"Except _you_, if you don't _rest_ instead of trying to get up."

Shepard laughed a little at this. "Only if you let yourself relax, too. Wish I'd gotten another bottle of brandy before we went off through the relay..." She gave a heavy sigh.

"I'll be fine, Shepard. Relax. You've done an amazing thing, getting everyone through this safe and sound."

"Everybody but one." Shepard's mouth pulled into a flat, grim frown. "I swear, Chakwas, he - Vader, I mean. He's probably doing this just to pop up and gloat about how he planned it all along..." She forced out a laugh, but it fell flat. "I just don't understand it. It wasn't... This wasn't like Virmire. He could have jumped. He -"

"_Relax._ Those are orders."

"Hey, now. I still outrank you. Besides, I'm a Spectre," Shepard teased. "I don't have to follow any rules." Chakwas shook her head and gave a laugh as Shepard turned her head. "How's the kid?"

The young man was stretched out on the bed beside her, breathing deep and even, wounds bandaged, intravenous lines feeding into his arm. Chakwas drifted over to stand between them, checking the display arching over the man and looking back to Shepard. "Better. Malnourished and dehydrated, but those two things are easily fixed. I'm keeping him under sedation for now."

"Until I decide what to do with him?" Shepard stared at the man, squinting a little. "Or something else?"

"Both." Chakwas gently tilted his head to the side, parting his light brown hair. "Look, here. Apparently the Collectors attempted some sort of implant, but there is some sort of reaction going on with the Reaper technology and symbiotic micro-organisms in his system - the same type that were in Vader. Mordin is doing further analysis, but it seems like they are actively helping his body reject the implants. As soon as he's stable, I'll extract them surgically."

"And then?"

"Then I believe the decision will be up to you."

Shepard sighed, and Chakwas gently patted her shoulder. "You can worry about it in the morning."

"Yeah... there'll be time later to figure it all out."


	16. Chapter 16

"Shepard! Thought you were on bed rest. Chakwas' orders. Complex leg fracture."

"I may have told the Doctor that Joker fell down the stairs, or that there was a three-headed money behind her, or something like that," Shepard said slyly. She was still limping heavily, leg in a full cast, and when Mordin moved to offer his seat in the lab to her, she accepted it graciously. "Chakwas let slip that you've found something interesting."

Perhaps it was because she was still so tired, but Shepard couldn't help but be reminded of Kelly's description as the salarian excitedly pawed through the contents of the desk. Hamster on coffee, indeed. "Yes! Yes. Most interesting. Organelles of great importance. Seem to manipulate matter. Repair tissue. Create mass effect fields. Support life. Symbiotic relationship..." He gave a grand sniff. "Invaluable."

"So the kid's got them, too?" Shepard leaned in to look at the screen as Mordin excitedly went through information.

"Yes, yes. Unique to this strain of humanity. Increased evidence for subspecies of _homo sapiens_. Interesting taxonomic riddle! Need more information, of course. Concentrations higher than in Vader - " He called up a picture on the haptic screen.

"God_damn_, that's more packed than Ladies' Night at Afterlife."

"Exactly. But not most interesting discovery. Examined Reaper implants, after removal -"

Shepard froze in momentary paranoia. "And they've been spaced, right? Off the Normandy?"

"Into the center of the first major star we passed." Shepard relaxed as Mordin continued talking. "Only needed cursory examination. Little chance of indoctrination." He called up another illustration and gestured towards it. "Implantation unsuccessful. Organelles initiated immune response. Immediate rejection. Reaper tech could not cope."

Shepard opened her mouth, expression quizzical, before Mordin gestured at her again. "But! _Not most interesting discovery._"

"Wow, you're really excited about this." Shepard cracked a smile. "I don't know whether I should be scared or gleeful."

"Good news, Shepard. Promise. Miranda provided data from Cerberus network. Brain scans from team on Reaper salvage. Notice deterioration. Distinct pattern. Homogenization of scans. Neurological basis of indoctrination." He waited for Shepard to nod in understanding before continuing. "Have already begun work on periodic scanning for crew. ...But -"

"Not the most interesting discovery?" Shepard grinned.

"Observe. Brain scans from Vader's son. Immediately after rescue. Four hours later. Eight. Twelve. Pattern emerges. Similar to scans from half-indoctrinated Cerberus workers. But neurological activity _reverts_. Away from homogenization. _Away from indoctrinated state._ Organelles responsible for change." Mordin gave another dramatic sniff. "Function as psychological immune system. Could be key to resisting indoctrination - defeating Reapers."

Shepard was silent for a long moment before nodding solemnly. "That's excellent news, Mordin. I really mean it." The salarian glowed with pride as Shepard smiled. "I've been hoping for some proof I could wave in Miranda's face... she sent me a memo trying to talk me into just giving the kid an overdose of sedatives, saying it'd be kinder than having him die trying to take us out in some indoctrinated fury. ...How long will this reversal take?" She gestured at the screen.

"Rough estimation? Few days. Have advised Chakwas to keep him under sedation. Security teams in place when he awakes. Cannot promise there will be no risk. Could be... unpredictable."

"But he could be unpredictable in a _good_ way." Shepard nodded a little to herself. "Certainly as good odds as Grunt. ...If you find out anything more, Mordin, send it to the Med Bay. I'd better get back there before Chakwas gets too mad..."

-

Two days later, Shepard had managed to escape to the Main Battery, perched on the railing as Garrus finished another round of calibrations. It was something of a typical spot to find her in. The good camaraderie between the two had been easy to rekindle, and at this point, it seemed obvious to everyone but them - even Gabby and Ken in Engineering agreed on how it seemed inevitable. But for now, they were simply very good friends.

"...don't call him that. He's just the kid, until he wakes up and tells us his name."

Garrus smirked. "What? You don't want him called Vader's son?"

"It makes him sound like some sort of viking," Shepard joked. "You know, Bjorn Vadersson, first person to reach Fiji by longboat. ...That, and I don't really want to think about the type of kid Vader would raise," she admitted more seriously. "The universe needs more sensible, boring parents. Like my mother. We'd get a whole lot less 'I must murder everyone because Daddy didn't love me' and a whole more 'I am mildly cynical because my mom made me take kickboxing all through my youth'." This made Garrus laugh outright, though he shook his head.

"I just don't understand why it's so important to you, that's all. It's not like you've gone in with a script before - not even to the Council about Saren." Garrus gave her a look out of the corner of his eye. "You've never been that big on planning stuff like this out. It doesn't seem like you."

"Yeah, well... I don't know. If I knew why it bothered me so bad, it wouldn't bother me." Shepard quieted somewhat, running a hand through her hair. "It's not like... it's not like Ashley, you know?" Garrus nodded solemnly. "I can't just pick out some Tennyson and feel like I've done right by him."

Garrus mulled over this for a moment. "So you're making sure to say the right thing to Va-oerr, the kid, because you couldn't say anything to Vader. Or _for_ Vader, I guess."

"That might be it." She reached up to massage her temples a little. "I don't know. The universe is a damn complicated place. And all this worrying assumes that the kid doesn't pop up screaming out infidels and try to shoot all our heads off, like Miranda seems to think."

It was a soft, unconscious motion, but Garrus reached out to lightly pat her thigh as she sat on the railing by his console. "Don't worry so much about it, Shepard. You'll do fine. When it counts, you speak from the heart - you say what matters. And that's what his son will be looking to hear, anyway."

He continued to work, tapping at the readouts and calibrating the weapons systems. Shepard blushed a little, watching him work. When she next spoke, it was in a rather quiet voice. "Hey, Garrus?"

"Yes, Shepard?"

"You know how when we were talking about, ah... popping heat-sinks... that thing I said about how I didn't want to rush it, but wanted to have some time so it could happen... more naturally, I guess?" She stumbled awkwardly around the topic before finally confessing: "Can it be that time now?"

He blinked solidly before turning to face her and immediately gave a startled jump. She had stood up clumsily on the railing, half-falling forward to brace her arms against his armor. It was not by any means graceful, but his arms wrapped around her to return the embrace. Her cheek was pressed against his - he could feel the warmth of it, even through the scars and cybernetic patch.

"Dinner tonight?" She murmured.

"Is that an order, Shepard?" He joked softly.

"...Yes."


	17. Chapter 17

"What I'm trying to say is... damn."

Shepard's head dropped as she ran a hand through her damp hair. It was still thirty more minutes until Garrus was to come over for dinner. She had managed to sweet-talk Chakwas into letting her back into her cabins; she had even managed to awkwardly wiggle into the little black dress Kasumi made sure was in her closet. The effect was rather spoiled by the full leg brace, but she was still trying.

Now if only she could enjoy herself.

She let out a long sigh before raising her head again, speaking at the fish tank, as if the fish were a suitable substitute audience. "Damn, damn, damn." The words just weren't coming, and it was driving her mildly insane.

She had to say _something_, but she didn't know _what_.

It had been easy, as easy as dirges ever get, to find something suitable for Ash. But Vader had left her scurrying through extranet archives for all of the poems she half-remembered as being famous.

_I am Ozymandias, King of Kings; look on my works, ye mighty..._

And if that wasn't complicated enough, she also had to remember her real audience. Not Vader, but the boy. How was she going to find something that quieted both souls at once? Especially when both of them were such strangers?

_I grow old... I grow old. ...Do I dare to eat a peach? ...I have seen the mermaids singing, each to each._

But she couldn't let him down - she couldn't let _them_down. She was Shepard, after all. Wasn't her business the impossible?

_...and then Turnus's limbs grew slack with death, and his life fled, with a moan, angrily, to the Shades._

She groaned, tossing the datapad back onto the bed and pinching at her nose. If only she had the Consort's way with words! But even if Shepard's business was the impossible, some things were just _too_impossible. She took a deep breath, raising her head again. There would be no help from any dead poets. There would just be her, and the boy, and Vader (wherever he was, she supposed). A script was useless, but she had to try anyway.

"What I'm trying to say is..." She took another deep breath. "Your father is dead. And I'm pretty sure that he died for you. Maybe in - maybe in his own way. I don't claim to understand the man. I don't think anyone does. I don't think he understood himself, which is why this is so tricky, so bear with me, all right? But I think... I think some people just get so caught up in fighting - they don't know how to... how to have normal lives anymore. They just keep fighting, because that's all they know how to do. So they don't know how to - well, how to love somebody. They just know how to fight and keep fighting, and -"

She glanced up and caught her own murky reflection in the glass of the aquarium.

Immediately a numb despair washed over her.

Was this what Vader meant to finally taunt her with? He had always been gleeful about how similar they were, both of them built to serve new masters... both of them leaders, both of them warriors...

"Damn it, damn it - _goddammit_-"

She had always said she was fundamentally different, but what evidence did she have to show? All Shepard remembered doing was fighting: training, more training, missions following missions, battle after battle.

Maybe all she knew how to do was fight.

Maybe he was right all along.

So was this elegy for him, or for her?

The door chimed, and she jumped, immediately giving a squeaky curse and wiping frantically at her eyes. Garrus had to be early. "Coming - coming!" She limped up even as the turian let himself in, putting on her usual cheerful smile and hoping he didn't notice the bit of redness in her eyes or the occasional sniffle. "Hey, you're a bit early, aren't you?" Her teasing fell flat, her voice still shaking.

Garrus frowned. "Shepard, what's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing - I'm fine." She wiped at her face again and gave a worn laugh. "It'll be awhile until the food gets up, but, um -"

"Shepard." He took a step forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You know I'm not going to think any less of you. _What's wrong?_"

It took her a moment to realize that both of them were going into this with their guards down. Something finally sunk in about how she didn't have to be the Commander, the Normandy's immovable center, the calm voice of sage wisdom who shed an appropriate amount of tears at Ashley's funeral service but not any more so that nobody could accuse her of weakness. She didn't have to be the perfection of humanity, mankind's first Spectre, servant of the Council. She just had to be Shepard, the same way he just had to be Garrus.

So her lip trembled and after a long moment she started crying: heavy, ugly sobbing that had been years in coming. She let all of the anxious worries flow out of her and he did the same, finding strength in one another, fighting loneliness and doubt.

And they showed each other they could do more than just fight.

* * *

Shepard was aware that the sedatives were scheduled to taper off at exactly 0800 hours the next morning, but when Garrus sheepishly shuffled off to his own quarters as to skip the morning walk of victory and/or shame, sleeping became increasingly impossible. So she slipped her uniform back on and limped down to the med bay.

It was quiet, most of the crew still resting. Only a skeleton crew were awake, with everyone's day-night cycles having been roughly synchronized so that everyone would be awake for the final mission. Chakwas was certainly in bed, and likely even Legion was doing the closest thing geth could manage to sleep. Shepard, meanwhile, pulled herself up on one of the empty beds in the med bay with a grunt.

"Hey, kid." She smiled and reached over to brush a bit of the young man's hair out of his face. "I figured if I was doing the whole dress rehearsal bit trying to figure out what to say to you, I might as well do it right, y'know?" She considered him for a moment, tilting her head. "I think Chakwas is right. You do seem... happier when someone's talking to you. Even though you're supposed to be out like a light. If you inherited half your dad's talent at being a strange bastard, I can't doubt it." She shifted in the seat, giving a sigh as she stretched her injured leg up.

"Not like I mind talking. ...I don't want you waking up the same way I did. Miranda's... she's all right, and a damn good fighter. But that first time, not knowing where I was or who the hell she was or what was going on, I could have really used her looking me in the eye and telling me I'd be all right instead of just snapping at me. Sometimes I think she still considers me... ah, what'd Jacob say? 'Meat and tubes'. Yeah, it's a real pretty picture, I'm sure. Glad I wasn't awake to see it, I guess."

She gave another long sigh. "Damn. Sorry, kid. I'm rambling. Good thing you seem happy to listen."

Shepard reached out again, tucking a bit of his light brown hair behind his ear. "Wonder what your name is. You'll be up soon enough to tell us, I guess. Maybe by then I'll figure out what to say to you." She let out a long sigh.

"I'm not going to pretend your father was a good person, or that I was best pals with him. But as soon as he joined us, I became his Commander, you know? I don't get out of being responsible for him, in some way, just like I don't get out of being responsible for you." For a brief moment Shepard thought she saw the beginnings of a smile on the young man's face, but it was gone as soon as she thought it was there. "Hell, I'm not even sure Vader was his real name... but that's not the important part. The important thing is..." She took a deep breath to stop her voice from trembling, and began again.

"The important thing is that he fought his way through hell to make sure you were safe. Now - this is just conjecture - but I'm guessing he wasn't exactly Dad of the Year material. At least, I can't imagine him playing catch in the back yard with you and cheering from the sidelines at your grade school hockey games or something. He was just... He was just so used to fighting, that's all he knew how to do." She paused a moment, tone hushed as if she was realizing this as she was saying it. "Maybe that's why he didn't jump, at the end. He knew all he'd do was fight with you instead of - I dunno, instead of being a parent for you."

Shepard tapped her fingers against the hard plastic, looking away from the young man out of the nearby window to the mess hall and common area of the crew deck. "Yeah, that... it almost makes sense. Vader was proud as hell. I can see him dying rather than admit he'd be really goddamn terrible at something, if not, y'know, actually counterproductive. So instead _I_ get to take care of you." She laughed, shaking her head. "All right, now it definitely sounds like something he'd do: keep his pride _and_totally aggravate me..."

The sound of a small sniff made her flinch, and she looked back, wide-eyed, to where the young man was. The haptic screens around him were noting increased activity - something that wasn't supposed to happen for several hours. Instead of being frightened or wary, Shepard found herself smiling as she watched his expression shift. His eyebrows knit as if unconsciousness was a solid block he was having to push out of the way, but as his breaths grew less regular and deeper, he tossed his head. His eyelids fluttered barely open, blue eyes watering, and his lips pursed as if at the start of a question.

And Shepard reached out to gently pat at his upper arm, a physical and tangible reminder of her presence, before she started speaking.

"Welcome to the Normandy, kid."

* * *

_Author's notes:_

_Thank you for reading, everyone! I hope you had fun coming along for the ride!_

_This arc is far from over, but I am ending YTIW here and picking it up momentarily in a fic that will cover the interim between ME2 and ME3. It will also feature significantly more Star Wars. And don't think that Vader is out of the story just because he's dead, either… In the meantime, thanks for putting up with my self-indulgent silly Shepard and FemShep/Garrus fluff!_

_The poems featured, by the way, are "Ozymandias" by Shelley, "The Lovesong of Alfred J Prufrock", and the end of Ovid's Aeneid._

_**Thank you again for reading, and see you soon in Chapter 1 of "Thy Rod and Staff"!**_


End file.
